LITERARY   STATESMEN 

AND    OTHERS 


Literary  Statesmen 

And  Others 
Essays  on  Men  seen  from  a  Distance 

BY 

NORMAN    HAPGOOD 


HERBERT   S.  STONE   &    CO. 
CHICAGO    y   NEW   YORK 

MDCCCXCVII 


COPYRIGHT     1897     BY 
HERBERT  S.   STONE  &  CO. 


CONTENTS 

PACK 

I.  LORD  ROSEBERY 3 

II.  MR.  JOHN  MORLEY 19 

III.  MR.  BALFOUR  SEEN  FROM  A  DISTANCE  43 

IV.  STENDHAL 69 

V.  M£RIM£E  AS  A  CRITIC 115 

VI.    AMERICAN  ART  CRITICISM     ....     133 

VII.     AMERICAN  COSMOPOLITANISM     .     .     .     175 

VIII.    HENRY  JAMES 193 


2090476 


LORD    ROSEBERY 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 
AND    OTHERS 

I 
LORD   ROSEBERY 

LORD  ROSEBERY,  who  has  naturally  been 
studied  mainly  as  a  statesman,  appears,  in 
the  little  he  has  written  with  an  eye  to 
literary  form,  as  an  artist  of  marked  quali- 
ties, of  talents  which  are  high,  although  they 
do  not  combine  into  genius.  A  reader  of 
the  "Life  of  Pitt,"  or  of  various  addresses, 
or  even  of  some  of  the  political  speeches, 
must  feel  that  the  most  significant  element 
of  the  style  is  charm,  composed  largely  of 
humor  which  is  gay  but  not  frivolous,  of 
seriousness  which  is  usually  far  from  solemn, 
and  of  a  taste  which,  never  obtrusive,  gives 
the  suggestion  of  culture  to  every  phrase. 

Of  these  elements  the  humor  is  the  most 

individual,  and  so  near  akin  to  other  qualities 

that   it  will   bear  dwelling  on.     It   is  never 

caustic,  but  friendly  and  pervasive,  often  even 

3 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

merry,  altogether  inspired  by  temperament. 
"  The  son  of  the  respected  family  physician, 
who  had  prescribed  colchicum  to  the  elder 
and  port  to  the  younger  Pitt,  Addington 
carried  into  politics  the  indefinable  air  of  a 
village  apothecary  inspecting  the  tongue  of 
the  State."  These  words  are  spontaneous, 
real  fun,  expressing  the  overflow  of  a  person- 
ality, not  at  all  the  studied  wit  of  a  clever 
man,  and  therefore  not  at  all  consistent  with 
the  popular  notion  that  Lord  Rosebery  used 
to  sit  in  his  office  in  the  House  of  Lords,  in 
a  chair  tipped  back,  looking  into  vacancy  for 
happy  phrases.  If  he  were  seen  in  that  oc- 
cupation the  enjoyment  would  be  greater  and 
the  effort  less  than  a  description  of  the  atti- 
tude would  suggest.  "  A  strategist  of  unal- 
loyed incompetency  and  unvaried  failure," 
although  less  expansive  than  the  other  quo- 
tation, has  the  true  ring  of  fun  in  it. 

" '  You  should  forget  party,'  said  the  Duke  of 
Argyll.  .  .  .  The  Duke  of  Argyll  cannot  forget 
his  party,  because  his  party  is  himself.  Whatever 
may  be  your  wishes,  however  noble  may  be  your 
aspirations,  when  you  have  a  party  in  that  compact 
and  singular,  I  might  almost  say  that  portable,  form, 
it  is  one  of  which  you  cannot  divest  yourself,  and 
it  is  one  of  which  I  think  the  Duke,  on  reflection, 
would  be  unwilling  to  divest  himself." 
4 


LORD    ROSEBERY 
In  the  same  speech  he  said :  — 

"  Now,  if  all  hope  of  union  has  not  fled  before 
this,  it  is  due,  in  my  opinion,  mainly  to  the  patience 
of  our  leaders,  who,  when  they  have  been  buffeted 
on  one  cheek,  have  meekly  offered  the  other.  But 
I  am  bound  to  say  this,  that  the  time  may  come 
when  we  shall  come  to  an  end  both  of  our  patience 
and  of  our  cheeks." 

It  is  only  fair,  since  his  treatment  of  humor 
is  to  be  used  as  an  indication  of  Lord  Rose- 
bery's  general  character,  to  put  in  contrast  to 
these  expressions  of  easy  and  genial  amuse- 
ment an  example  of  his  crudities,  which  a're 
extremely  rare,  and  sometimes  comical,  in 
spite  of  their  artificiality.  "  By  a  strange 
accident,  he  became  the  leader  of  the  no- 
bility; but  they  supported  him  on  their 
necks,  for  his  foot  was  there." 

That  humor  may  fairly  be  called  a  central 
point  of  Lord  Rosebery's  character  is  indicated 
by  the  kinship  between  that  quality  and  the 
others  in  which  he  is  attractive.  Next  to 
brilliancy  of  isolated  perceptions,  taste  is  the 
most  essential  element  of  humor,  and  Lord 
Rosebery's  seldom  errs.  In  his  frequent 
references  to  art  and  literature  there  is  no 
suggestion  of  pedantry.  In  his  most  earnest 
passages  there  is  seldom  declamation.  Pad- 
5 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

ding  of  all  kinds,  repetitions,  adjectives  em- 
ployed to  give  sound,  all  the  ordinary  faults, 
are  absent.  There  is  no  great  subtlety,  no 
pretentious  paradox,  no  lack  of  calm  and 
sure  literary  judgment.  Dulness,  above  all, 
is  a  thing  the  writer  abhors,  even  more,  if 
possible,  than  grossness.  In  the  "  Life  of 
Pitt,"  perhaps,  of  all  the  excellences  the 
most  conspicuous  is  a  speed  of  style  result- 
ing altogether  from  this  avoidance  of  clog- 
ging or  distracting  errors,  a  speed  which 
suggests  not  haste  but  clearness  of  thought 
and  the  restraint  of  culture,  and  is  as 
noticeable  in  the  comment  as  in  the  pure 
narrative.  The  felicity  of  phrase,  although 
varying  in  degree,  is  always  prominent  enough 
to  add  to  the  faultlessness  of  the  style  a  con- 
stant positive  charm.  "  But  these  are  like 
the  wars  of  Marlborough  and  Turenne,  — 
splendid  achievements,  which  light  up  the 
epoch,  without  exercising  a  permanent  influ- 
ence on  the  world ;  to  us,  at  any  rate,  the 
sheet-lightning  of  history."  No  single  phrase 
could  be  found  to  give  the  quality  of  Lord 
Rosebery's  half-humorous  imagination  better 
than  this  metaphor.  His  characterizations  of 
persons,  also,  even  when  they  are  serious, 
have  a  dash  allied  to  wit.  "  He  charmed 
equally  the  affections  of  Carlyle  and  Fitz- 
6 


LORD   ROSEBERY 

patrick,  the  meteoric  mind  of  Burke,  the 
pedantic  vanity  of  Parr,  the  austere  virtue 
of  Horner,  and  the  hedgehog  soul  of  Rogers." 
Any  number  of  passages  to  show  this  pervad- 
ing, graceful,  friendly  irony  might  be  found. 

"  The  uneasy  whisper  circulated,  and  the  joints 
of  the  lords  became  as  water.  The  peers,  who 
yearned  for  lieutenancies  or  regiments,  for  stars  or 
strawberry  leaves  ;  the  prelates,  who  sought  a  larger 
sphere  of  usefulness ;  the  minions  of  the  bed-cham- 
ber and  the  janissaries  of  the  closet ;  all,  temporal 
or  spiritual,  whose  convictions  were  unequal  to  their 
appetite,  rallied  to  the  royal  nod." 

Certainly  these  genial  touches  do  not  lack 
picturesqueness.  They  must  please  a  culti- 
vated man  with  a  combination  of  grace  and 
vividness  which  comes  just  to  the  edge  of 
imagination,  near  enough  to  borrow  some  of 
its  attractiveness.  It  might  be  said,  perhaps, 
that  Lord  Rosebery  appreciates  imagination, 
and  has  some  of  it,  but  is  unable  to  give  it  to 
his  style.  A  passage  coming  as  near  to  it  as 
any  is  this :  — 

"  It  was  in  Holland  that  his  first  complication 
arose.  On  that  familiar  board  all  the  great  powers 
of  Europe  were  moving  their  pawns,  —  the  fitful 
philanthropist,  Joseph  the  Second,  who  had  opened 
the  games  with  his  usual  disastrous  energy ;  the  old 
-  ^  7  -- 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

fox  at  Berlin ;  the  French  monarchy,  still  bitten 
with  the  suicidal  mania  of  fermenting  republics 
against  Great  Britain  ;  and  the  crafty  voluptuary  of 
St.  Petersburg." 

Lord  Rosebery  comes  within  sight  both  of 
literary  and  political  imagination,  and  is  kept 
from  reaching  them  by  traits  which  are  at 
once  his  powers  and  his  limitations.  Taste 
and  appreciation  can  take  him  no  farther  than 
this.  Clearness  and  measure  put  him  down 
at  a  point  from  which  he  should  be  carried 
on  by  emotion  and  will,  if  he  were  to  add  to 
the  intelligence  which  he  has  the  power  which 
he  lacks.  Some  passages  reach  nobility, 
none  reaches  grandeur ;  many  are  persuasive, 
none  is  compelling.  What  is  lacking  is  as 
necessary  to  a  philosopher  or  a  poet  as  it  is 
to  a  man  of  action.  It  is  easiest,  perhaps,  to 
see  it  as  a  moral  weakness,  although  it  is 
of  equal  importance  from  the  aesthetic  and 
the  practical  sides.  It  is  a  want  of  unity, 
of  strong  single  feeling,  of  purpose.  His 
perceptions,  like  his  efforts,  are  unsustained 
and  unrelated,  lacking  in  concentration  and 
therefore  in  force.  There  is  honesty,  frank- 
ness, generosity;  there  are  convictions;  but 
there  is  no  single  unifying  conviction  or  con- 
ception, no  faith,  or  passion,  or  need  of  ac- 
complishment. So  it  is  that  the  more  serious 
8 


LORD    ROSEBERY 

the  subject,  the  farther  removed  from  the 
spectacular  intellectual  world,  the  nearer  to  a 
reality  demanding  action,  the  less  adequate  is 
Lord  Rosebery  in  speaking  or  writing.  As 
long  as  the  tone  is  light,  the  unrelated  bril- 
liant flashes,  the  frequent  pleasant  places, 
seem  sufficient;  but  when  the  moral  sense  is 
aroused,  when  force  and  massing  power  are 
needed,  impressiveness  is  called  for.  From 
the  last  citation,  which  was  a  success,  it  is  but 
a  step  to  others  just  as  well  written,  but  none 
the  less,  on  account  of  their  subjects,  failures. 
Fairness,  truth,  and  clearness,  are  pleasing 
always,  but  color  and  warmth,  the  inspira- 
tion of  a  character,  are  needed  to  make  some 
ideas  live.  The  political  aspect  of  this  very 
general  truth  has  been  stated,  somewhat  un- 
sympathetically,  by  Lord  Rosebery  himself: 

"  Few  supreme  parliamentary  speeches  have  per- 
haps ever  been  delivered  by  orators  who  have  been 
unable  to  convince  themselves,  not  absolutely  that 
they  are  in  the  right,  but  that  their  opponents  are 
absolutely  in  the  wrong,  and  the  most  abandoned 
of  scoundrels  to  boot,  for  holding  a  contrary  opin- 
ion. No  less  a  force,  no  feebler  flame  than  this, 
will  sway  or  incense  the  mixed  temperaments  of 
mankind." 

But  that  is  only  the  more  paltry  side  of  the 

popular   demand    for   a   strong   and    lasting 

9 


LITERARY  STATESMEN 

faith,  and  for  devotion  to  its  requirements. 
Again  Lord  Rosebery  speaks  for  himself: 
"  Fox  could,  indeed,  lay  down  principles  for 
all  time ;  but  the  moment  the  game  was  afoot, 
they  ceased  to  govern  his  conduct."  With 
this  may  be  put  his  assertion  that  "  the  Eng- 
lish love  a  statesman  whom  they  can  under- 
stand, or  at  least  think  they  can  understand." 
What  they  sympathetically  comprehend  is 
rather  earnestness  and  power  than  grace  and 
neutral  justice.  After  a  paragraph  in  which 
he  sums  up  the  most  important  influences 
on  Pitt's  childhood,  Lord  Rosebery  remarks, 
"  All  this  does  not  amount  to  much ;  "  and  he 
repeats  identically  the  same  phrase  after  talk- 
ing of  Pitt's  literary  tastes.  It  is  not  true  ;  it 
is  an  expression  of  self-consciousness,  and  a 
small  thing  could  hardly  illustrate  more  clearly 
the  weakness  of  mere  refinement,  judged  even 
by  literary  standards. 

To  reconcile  the  assertion  that  Lord  Rose- 
bery is  serious  with  the  assertion  that  his 
greatest  failure  is  moral,  would  be  to  draw  a 
line  with  exactness  about  his  character.  Not 
only  is  he  gifted,  refined,  and  elegant,  but  he 
has  qualities  more  distinctly  moral,  such  as 
courage  and  openness ;  but  these  moral  ele- 
ments are  what  might  be  called  negative. 
His  virtues  are  inactive,  and  therefore  depress- 

10 


LORD    ROSEBERY 

ing  to  most  men.  Like  the  famous  creation 
of  Buridan,  he  sees  so  clearly  the  reasonable- 
ness of  opposite  courses  that  he  stands  mo- 
tionless. It  is  easy  to  see  a  relation  between 
the  enthusiasm,  the  spirit,  the  self  abandon- 
ment that  are  necessary  to  a  moving  style  and 
the  power  of  final  decision  in  action ;  and  the 
literary  as  well  as  the  practical  defect  is  con- 
spicuous in  Lord  Rosebery.  Nothing  could 
make  him  commit  a  wrong.  Not  even  popu- 
larity, which  he  likes,  could  lead  him  to 
speak  a  disingenuous  word,  or  do  the  small- 
est act  in  which  he  did  not  believe.  His 
speech  at  Edinburgh,  after  his  resignation 
from  the  leadership,  was  strong  in  calm  vera- 
city and  generosity.  It  is  easy  to  grow  en- 
thusiastic in  thinking  of  such  virtues,  and  it 
is  with  sadness  that  one  who  is  won  as  much 
by  his  integrity  as  by  his  culture  sees  how 
little  these  things  avail  to  give  greatness  or 
importance  when  the  possessor  lacks  moral 
authority. 

Certainly  mere  grace  could  hardly  be  more 
perfect  than  it  is  in  the  Edinburgh  speech. 
What  could  have  a  better  tone  than  the 
reference  to  the  old  leader  who  had  just 
helped  to  show  the  world  his 
failure  ? 


ii 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

"  Perhaps  Mr.  Gladstone  has  been  the  indirect 
cause,  or  the  latest  indirect  cause,  of  the  action  that 
I  have  thought  right  to  take,  and  to  which  you  have 
alluded.  But  let  none  think  that  for  that  reason  I 
have  regretted  his  intervention  in  the  Armenian 
question.  It  is  now  seventeen  years  ago  since  Mr. 
Gladstone  came  to  Midlothian.  I  remember  then 
making  a  speech  in  which  I  said  that  we  welcomed 
the  sight  of  a  great  statesman,  full  of  years  and  full 
of  honors,  coming  down  at  his  advanced  period  of 
life  to  fight  one  supreme  battle  on  behalf  of  liberty 
in  Europe.  Little  did  I  think  then  that  seventeen 
years  later  I  should  see  a  still  nobler  sight  —  a  states- 
man—  the  same  statesman  —  fuller  still  of  years, 
and,  if  possible,  still  fuller  of  honors,  coming  out 
and  leaving  a  well-earned  retirement,  which  the 
whole  nation  watches  with  tenderness  and  solic- 
itude, to  fight  another  battle,  but  I  hope  not  the 
last,  on  behalf  of  the  principles  in  which  his  life 
has  been  spent" 

The  cartoons  show  us  Lord  Rosebery 
quietly  reading  in  his  study,  while  the  Arme- 
nians perish.  Under  the  brutal  exaggeration 
is  the  truth  that  in  no  emergency  does  he  lose 
his  literary  interest,  that  it  is  his  distinction 
and  his  limitation  to  be  always  in  the  artistic 
attitude.  In  this  same  speech,  in  one  of  its 
most  earnest  and  significant  passages,  he  can 
stop  to  give  his  hearers  a  piece  of  literary 

counsel :  — 

12 


LORD    ROSEBERY 

"  Cromwell  interfered,  it  is  true,  on  behalf  of 
people  oppressed  much  as  these  Armenians  are.  He 
wrote,  or  rather  he  signed,  some  letters  on  that  sub- 
ject, which  were  written  by  John  Milton  and  signed 
by  Oliver  Cromwell,  —  an  august  conjunction, — 
which  in  their  agony  and  vehemence  of  pathos  still 
thrill  our  hearts  across  the  generations  that  separate 
us.  And,  gentlemen,  if  this  Eastern  question  has  no 
other  result  than  this  to  you,  I  hope  it  will  make 
you  betake  yourselves  to  those  sublime  despatches." 

In  prose,  in  short,  Lord  Rosebery  is  im- 
peccable. Seldom  has  he  tried  to  leap  be- 
yond this  boundary ;  but  the  one  time  I  know 
of  when  he  did  endeavor  to  glorify  his  feel- 
ing and  his  language,  to  put  into  his  words 
the  color  of  poetry,  he  failed  with  pitiable 
completeness.  When  he  tried  to  put  ex- 
plicitly the  deeper  feelings,  which  to  be  con- 
vincingly expressed  must  be  spoken  in  quite 
a  different  tone,  he  produced  something  of 
which  it  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that,  honest 
in  feeling  as  it  is,  it  is  in  the  result  mere 
declamation. 

"  In  this  place,  and  in  this  day,  it  all  seems  pres- 
ent to  us,  —  the  house  of  anguish,  the  thronged 
churchyard,  the  weeping  neighbors.  We  feel  our- 
selves part  of  the  mourning  crowd ;  we  hear  their 
volleys  and  their  muffled  drums  ;  we  bow  our  heads 
as  the  coffin  passes,  and  acknowledge  with  tears  the 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

inevitable  doom.  Pass,  heavy  hearse,  with  thy 
weary  freight  of  shattered  hopes  and  exhausted 
frame ;  pass  with  thy  simple  pomp  of  fatherless 
bairns,  and  sad,  moralizing  friends ;  pass  with  the 
sting  of  death  to  the  victory  of  the  grave  ;  pass  with 
the  perishable,  and  leave  us  the  eternal." 

There  is  no  passion  in  all  this,  there  is  only 
calm  observation,  trying  to  speak  a  language 
more  affecting  than  its  own.  It  is  not  the 
real  Rosebery  at  all. 

Or,  rather,  it  is  not  the  Rosebery  his  fairest 
admirers  spontaneously  think  of.  Their  Rose- 
bery comes  back  to  them  when,  in  the  same 
speech,  he  calls  puff  and  advertisement  "  in- 
tellectual cosmetics,"  frail  and  fugitive,  rarely 
surviving  their  subject.  This  is  the  laughing 
Lord  Rosebery,  easy,  happy  in  wit  and  shrewd 
perceptions,  pleasing  gifts,  and  attractive  per- 
sonality ;  the  man  who  in  his  boyhood  is  said 
to  have  planned  out  his  future  as  a  brilliant 
show,  calmly  deciding  to  be  Prime  Minister 
and  to  win  the  Derby ;  the  statesman  whose 
whole  career  has  been  an  illustration  of  the 
futility  in  large  action  of  a  mind  which  in 
sport  is  so  charming.  What  more  natural 
than  that  his  shrewdness  and  elegance  should 
even  trouble  the  average  Englishman,  should 
certainly  be  no  compensation,  since  the  aver- 
age Englishman  is  so  much  that  Lord  Rosc- 


LORD    ROSEBERY 

bery  is  not?  The  average  Englishman  is  a 
man  of  action,  of  unconscious  poetry  in  senti- 
ment but  of  little  artistic  feeling,  positive, 
prejudiced,  and  efficient.  Lord  Rosebery's  is 
in  an  extreme  degree  the  critical  tempera- 
ment, and  three  doubters,  as  some  French- 
man put  it,  do  not  equal  one  believer.  The 
detached,  sceptical,  literary  temperament  has, 
as  a  rule,  been  distrusted  by  the  masses ;  and 
England  as  a  whole,  although  it  has  followed 
men  who  enjoyed  artistic  pursuits  as  side 
issues,  has  never  followed  anybody  in  whom 
the  artistic  qualities  were  more  prominent 
than  the  moral  and  active  ones.  The  people 
do  not  admire  a  man  who  hates  to  move  until 
he  is  convinced  on  logical  grounds,  any  more 
than  they  admire  in  their  intellectual  world  a 
thinker  who  has  only  rationality.  Doubtless 
men  of  Lord  Rosebery's  kind,  "  corrective 
sceptics,"  help  to  increase  culture ;  but  as  in- 
dividuals they  are  seldom  important  in  life  or 
letters.  "A  constitutional  statesman,"  says 
Bagehot,  "  is  in  general  a  man  of  common 
ideas  and  uncommon  abilities."  Of  Lord 
Rosebery  the  reverse  would  be  more  nearly 
true.  He  has  the  virtues  of  the  cultivated 
few,  and  lacks  the  abilities  that  alone  can 
reach  the  many. 
1896. 


MR.   JOHN    MORLEY 


II 

MR.   JOHN   MORLEY 

MR.  MORLEY'S  interest  to  the  observer  is 
largely  in  his  distinctness ;  for  seldom  is  a 
man  of  importance  so  clear  in  outline  until 
after  his  death,  when  time  has  wiped  out  de- 
tails and  placed  the  individual.  Mr.  Morley 
has  no  details;  he  has  no  blurred  edges,  no 
puzzles ;  he  represents  a  familiar  type,  and 
he  is  distinct,  partly  for  that  reason,  partly 
because  he  is  expressive  in  words,  but  in  a 
large  degree  because,  since  few  men  of  his 
kind  rise  so  high,  he  stands  apart  in  the  spec- 
tator's eye  alike  from  other  British  statesmen 
and  from  other  English  critics.  To  gain  a 
position  of  influence  in  politics,  and  to  assure 
himself  a  place  in  criticism,  without  the  aid  of 
instinct  for  action,  charm  of  style,  personal 
magnetism,  wit,  or  eloquence,  he  has  certainly 
kept  his  gifts  employed  at  a  higher  rate  of 
interest  than  is  earned  by  most  men  of  as  few 
talents.  His  somewhat  limited  field  has  been 
cultivated  with  a  thoroughness  that  has  brought 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

a  larger  crop  than  many  a  richer  and  broader 
area.  In  the  moralism  where  we  find  so  readily 
the  boundaries  of  his  personality  we  must  find 
also  a  partial  explanation  of  his  accomplish- 
ment. The  difference  between  him  and  many 
other  critics  caged  in  the  straitness  of  their 
convictions  lies  somewhat  in  his  intellectual 
mistrust  of  many  of  the  qualities  which  limit 
him,  which  leads  him  to  avoid  some  of  their 
worst  results  and  to  get  out  of  them  as  much 
as  they  can  do.  His  clear-headed  scholarship 
gains  much  from  this  check  of  his  perceptions 
on  his  instincts,  and  so  does  his  statesmanship. 
Mr.  Morley's  dozen  volumes  have  given  him 
a  settled  rank  as  a  critic  who  is  valued  by  the 
scholar  as  highly  as  by  the  general  reader; 
and  this  rank  is  due  largely  to  his  moral 
nature,  to  the  ethical  seriousness  which  in 
its  extreme  is  his  artistic  failure,  —  to  his 
moral  nature,  which  made  his  attention  loyal 
to  a  few  large  facts  and  principles,  and  helped 
him  to  give  order  to  all  of  his  studies,  at 
whatever  sacrifice  of  vivacity.  His  misfor- 
tune is  that  these  principles  are  not  timely, 
that  they  do  not  form  a  message  needed  and 
welcomed  by  the  times,  like  that  of  Matthew 
Arnold,  for  instance,  or  that  of  Ruskin,  and 
of  course  also  because  they  are  not  set  in  a 
style  of  distinction,  but  rather  in  one  soured 
20 


MR.   JOHN   MORLEY 

by  moralism  and  desiccated  by  science;  so 
that  the  row  of  books  stand  on  the  shelf  of 
the  temporarily  useful  merely,  read  because 
they  give  certain  information  more  intelli- 
gently than  any  other  summary  treatises  now 
obtainable.  "  Historia  quoquo  modo  scripta 
est  semper  legitur."  Mr.  Morley  himself 
finds  history  always  interesting.  He  handles 
large  subjects  with  a  sincerity  and  a  dignity 
that  testify  to  their  importance. 

Naturally  such  qualities  show  at  their  best 
in  his  larger  books ;  and  the  lives  of  Diderot, 
Rousseau,  and  Cobden  are  almost  satisfying. 
In  the  first  two  Mr.  Morley  has  allowed  the 
subjects  themselves  to  supply  the  elements 
of  vividness  and  beauty  in  generous  quota- 
tions, while  he  himself  showed  judgment  in 
marshalling  the  surrounding  facts.  In  the 
life  of  Cobden  he  dealt  with  matters  well 
within  the  scope  of  his  mind  and  tempera- 
ment, and  no  better  work  on  the  subject 
could  be  desired.  The  letters  are  connected 
by  a  narrative  and  comment  written  in  their 
own  spirit,  which  is  Mr.  Morley's  in  its 
general  tone,  while  Cobden  has  the  natural 
grasp  of  the  concrete  which  Mr.  Morley  lacks, 
and  lacks  the  power  of  abstraction  which  Mr. 
Morley  has.  In  succinct  narrative  Mr.  Morley 
is  staccato  and  dry.  He  expands  only  in  the 

21 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

region  of  the  general,  and  there  are  conse- 
quently many  dreary  wastes  in  his  political 
speeches  which  are  rare  in  his  books.  In 
the  life  of  Rousseau  he  scolds  a  little,  but  he 
lets  the  man  paint  himself,  as  he  does  Diderot, 
while  he  as  editor  tells  the  most  important 
things  which  these  men  brought  into  the  world. 
These  three  books  are  the  truest  foundation 
of  the  writer's  interest  for  the  world,  however 
much  more  discussion  arbitrary  and  radical 
arguments  like  those  in  "  Compromise  "  may 
have  aroused.  The  treatment  may  seem  thin 
when  we  have  read  them  all,  but  in  reading 
them  we  can  hardly  fail  to  find  constant  food 
for  the  interest  in  serious  principles  of  human 
progress  which  Pliny  thought  strong  enough 
to  make  all  history  readable.  They  tell  us 
almost  nothing  that  is  not  worth  knowing. 

Another  superiority  of  these  longer  works 
is  that  the  author's  faults  are  less  insistent 
in  them  than  in  the  shorter  political  and  lit- 
erary studies,  to  say  nothing  of  the  political 
speeches,  which  will  hardly  enter  into  the 
judgment  of  the  future.  The  first  of  these 
faults  or  limitations  is  that  in  no  degree  is 
history  a  picture  to  Mr.  Morley,  —  it  is  merely 
a  problem.  The  past  is  not  brought  before 
the  imagination,  except  in  some  quotations ; 
it  is  only  given,  like  a  demonstration  in 
22 


MR.   JOHN   MORLEY 

geometry,  to  the  eye  of  reason.  He  him- 
self speaks  in  the  life  of  Rousseau  of  "the 
greatest  question  that  ever  dawns  upon  any 
human  intelligence  that  has  the  privilege  of 
discerning  it,  the  problem  of  a  philosophy 
and  body  of  doctrine."  It  is  perhaps  neces- 
sary to  say  of  this  judgment  nothing  more 
than  that  it  is  characteristic  of  its  author  not 
only  in  its  sweeping  generality  but  in  its 
frank  avowal  of  his  own  dominant  interest. 
Mr.  Morley  has  his  own  body  of  doctrine  com- 
pact and  unchanging,  and  other  quotations 
will  serve  to  show  where  it  leads  him.  The 
scolding  at  religion;  the  irrelevant  jeers, 
such  as  his  suggestion  that  Hume's  seasick- 
ness is  probably  a  satisfaction  to  the  ortho- 
dox ;  the  famous  small  "  g,"  the  translation 
in  Goethe's  poem  of  "  das  uebrige  Gott "  by 
"  the  master  power ;  "  such  violent  speech 
inserted  parenthetically  as  "  the  fatuous  opti- 
mism which  insists  that  somehow  justice  and 
virtue  do  rule  in  the  world,"  —  these  little 
offences  against  taste  are  obviously  part 
of  a  larger  limitation.  The  sharpness  of  his 
partisanship  not  only  makes  his  speech 
bitter;  it  makes  breadth  and  sympathy  of 
imagination  on  some  aspects  of  literature 
impossible  to  him,  just  as  in  some  of  his 
speeches  he  seems  to  have  thrown  away 
23 


LITERARY  STATESMEN 

moderation  and  the  critical  attitude,  and 
become  the  mere  advocate,  endeavoring  to 
gain  force  by  violence  and  persuasion  by 
contempt.  So  far  does  his  own  panacea 
carry  him  that  he  makes  for  it  claims  that 
in  one  who  has  so  fiercely  pointed  out  the 
exaggerations  of  the  claims  of  revealed  reli- 
gion and  the  slightness  of  the  connection 
between  belief  and  character  are  almost  sur- 
prising :  — 

"  A  man  with  this  faith  can  have  no  foul  spiritual 
pride,  for  there  is  no  mysteriously  accorded  divine 
grace  in  which  one  may  be  a  larger  participant  than 
another ;  he  can  have  no  incentives  to  that  mutila- 
tion with  which  every  branch  of  the  church,  from 
the  oldest  to  the  youngest  and  crudest,  has  in  its 
degree  afflicted  and  retarded  mankind,  because  the 
key-note  of  his  religion  is  the  joyful  energy  of 
every  faculty,  practical,  reflective,  creative,  con- 
templative, in  pursuit  of  a  visible  common  good ; 
and  he  can  be  plunged  into  no  fatal  and  paralyzing 
despair  by  any  doctrine  of  mortal  sin,  because  active 
faith  in  humanity,  resting  on  recorded  experience, 
discloses  the  many  possibilities  of  moral  recovery, 
and  the  work  that  may  be  done  for  men  in  the 
fragment  of  days,  redeeming  the  contrite  from  their 
burdens  by  manful  hope." 

A  part  of  this  philosophy  or  creed  is  his 
constant  preaching,  in  season  and   out,  that 
24 


MR.   JOHN   MORLEY 

the  social  is  the  only  worthy  point  of  view, 
which  naturally  leads  him  to  revel  in  the 
eighteenth  century  of  France,  since  no  period 
has  had  more  greatness  with  less  individuality, 
and  no  modern  literature  has  as  strong  a 
social  quality  with  such  a  dearth  of  original 
genius  as  the  French.  In  his  life  of  Diderot, 
Mr.  Morley  points  out  clearly  how  the  par- 
ticular sympathies  of  the  great  Frenchman 
in  art  and  letters  are  the  natural  result  of 
his  social  point  of  view,  —  his  liking  for 
Greuge,  for  instance,  and  for  Richardson. 
The  remarks  which  Mr.  Morley  interjects 
on  every  opportunity  about  the  family  re- 
lations make  a  rather  picturesque,  perhaps 
a  diverting,  commentary  on  similar  results, 
less  artistic  to  be  sure,  from  his  own  em- 
phatic social  morality.  In  his  Cobden  is  this 
judgment,  in  his  sweeping  manner :  "  the  great- 
est of  political  morals,  that  '  domestic  com- 
fort is  the  object  of  all  reforms.'  "  And  in 
his  Voltaire  is  this  still  more  daring  generali- 
zation: "To  have  really  contributed  in  the 
humblest  degree,  for  instance,  to  a  peace 
between  Prussia  and  her  enemies  in  1759, 
would  have  been  an  immeasurably  greater 
performance  for  mankind  than  any  given 
book  which  Voltaire  could  have  written." 
From  the  same  volume  is  an  illustration 
25 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

which  might  be  paralleled  in  almost  any 
chapter  Mr.  Morley  has  written,  for  it  is 
a  belief  so  near  his  heart  that  it  cannot  be 
preached  too  much :  "  the  general  moral 
that  active  interest  in  public  affairs  is  the 
only  sure  safeguard  against  the  inhuman 
egotism,  otherwise  so  nearly  inevitable,  and 
in  anywise  so  revolting,  of  men  of  letters  and 
men  of  science." 

Obviously  this  absorption  in  ethical  stand- 
ards, in  the  directly  social,  leads  Mr.  Morley 
much  farther  than  it  could  lead  those  more 
vivid  imaginations  which  play  freely  and  dar- 
ingly with  many  aspects  of  the  world ;  but 
it  is  hard  to  forbear  giving  one  more  example, 
because,  detail  though  it  is,  it  is  so  sharp  an 
illustration  that  it  is  perhaps  worth  the  space 
it  takes.  Everybody  remembers  with  what 
scorn  Mr.  Morley  attacked  religious  con- 
formity, however  quiet,  in  his  treatise  on 
compromise.  Is  it  not  almost  ridiculous 
after  pages  of  biting  reproaches  to  those 
who,  for  one  reason  and  another,  deem  it 
best  to  keep  their  belief  to  themselves,  to  find 
a  passage  telling  us,  in  language  which  is  its 
own  comment  on  the  effect  of  thought  on 
style,  in  language  which  has  at  once  the 
faults  of  the  bar  and  those  of  that  pulpit  foj 
which  he  has  such  a  never  silent  contempt,  of 
26 


MR.   JOHN   MORLEY 

the  one  case  in  which  we  are  not  to  act  on 
the  principles  which  he  has  been  laying  down : 

"Where  it  would  give  them  deep  and  sincere 
pain  to  hear  a  son  or  daughter  avow  disbelief  in  the 
inspiration  of  the  Bible  and  so  forth,  it  seems  that 
the  younger  person  is  warranted  in  refraining  from 
saying  that  he  or  she  does  not  accept  such  and  such 
doctrines.  This,  of  course,  only  where  the  son  or 
daughter  feels  a  tender  and  genuine  attachment  to 
the  parent.  Where  the  parent  has  not  earned  this 
attachment,  has  been  selfish,  indifferent,  or  cruel, 
the  title  to  the  special  kind  of  forbearance  of  which 
we  are  speaking  can  hardly  exist.  In  an  ordinary 
way,  however,  a  parent  has  a  claim  on  us  which  no 
other  person  in  the  world  can  have,  and  a  man's 
self-respect  ought  scarcely  to  be  injured  if  he  finds 
himself  shrinking  from  playing  the  apostle  to  his 
own  father  and  mother. 

"  If  a  man  drew  his  wife  by  lot,  or  by  any  other 
method  over  which  neither  he  nor  she  has  any  con- 
trol, as  in  the  case  of  parents,  perhaps  he  might 
with  some  plausibleness  contend  that  he  owed  her 
certain  limited  deference  and  reserve,  just  as  we 
admit  that  he  may  owe  them  to  his  parents.  But 
such  is  not  the  case." 

With  this  truly  ingenuous  doctrine  of  the 
wife  compare  this  little  piece  of  rhetoric :  — 

"  The  marriage  choice  of  others  is  the  inscrutable 
puzzle  of  those  who  have  no  eye  for  the  fact  that 
27 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

such  choice  is  the  great  match  of  cajolery  between 
purpose  and  invisible  hazard,  with  the  blessedness 
of  many  lives  for  stake,  as  intention  happens  to 
cheat  accident  or  to  be  cheated  by  it.  When  the 
match  is  once  over,  deep  criticism  of  a  game  of 
chance  is  time  wasted." 

It  would  hardly  pay  to  go  too  deep  into  the 
conflicts  of  these  two  extracts,  nor  is  deep 
search  necessary  to  see  in  them  some  of  the 
dangers  into  which  the  prophet  who  can  give 
us  solemn  assurances  in  absolute  form  about 
the  facts  of  our  lives  is  likely  to  fall.  Nothing, 
however,  leads  him  into  quite  such  impossible 
promulgations  as  these  relations,  which  also 
lead  him  nearest  to  pure  sentimentality  in 
expression :  — 

"  So  sharp  are  the  goads  in  a  divided  house  ;  so 
sorely  with  ache  and  pain  and  deep-welling  tears  do 
men  and  women  rend  into  shreds  the  fine  web  of 
one  another's  lives.  But  the  pity  of  it,  oh,  the  pity 
of  it!" 

It  should  be  said,  however,  that  this  sen- 
sitiveness sometimes  finds  more  pleasing 
expression :  — 

"  It  is  the  bitterest  element  in  the  vast  irony  of 
human  life  that  the  time-worn  eyes  to  which  a  son's 
success  would  have  brought  the  purest  gladness  are 
so  often  closed  forever  before  success  has  come." 
28 


MR.   JOHN   MORLEY 

Evidently  it  is  in  such  cases  as  these  not 
the  thing  said  so  much  as  the  way  of  saying  it 
that  makes  the  weakness.  If  Mr.  Morley  had 
more  appreciation  of  beauty,  even  if  he  had 
not  the  gifts  to  express  it,  he  would  avoid 
some  of  his  softest  moralizations.  His  pref- 
erence of  the  ethical  to  the  aesthetic  point  of 
view  is  entirely  conscious.  "  I  like  the  drab 
men  best;  "  and  again:  "Truth  is  quiet.  .  .  . 
Moderation  and  judgment  are,  for  most  pur- 
poses, more  than  the  flash  and  glitter  even  of 
the  genius."  The  scientific  and  the  ethical 
spirits  have  such  complete  possession  of  him 
that  it  is  no  wonder  that  when  we  read  his 
Voltaire  we  see  very  little  of  the  flash  and 
glitter  of  the  genius.  "  That  he  values  knowl- 
edge only  as  a  means  to  social  action  is  one 
of  the  highest  titles  to  our  esteem  that  any 
philosopher  can  have."  Then  he  has  carried 
this  line  of  thought  so  far  that  the  definitions 
of  art  fixed  by  centuries  of  experience  are 
undone  to  do  homage  to  science :  "  tragedy  to 
the  modern  is  not  rv^rj,  but  a  thing  of  cause 
and  effect,  invariable  antecedent  and  invari- 
able consquent."  The  present  reaction  against 
the  excessive  claims  of  science  is  not  without 
its  analogies  to  the  reaction  against  the  preten- 
sions of  revealed  religion.  Whatever  tragedy 
may  be  to  the  fictitious  individual  here  called 
29 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

the  modern,  invariable  antecedent  and  invari- 
able consequent  have  yet  to  justify  them- 
selves in  the  drama.  In  the  novel  they 
have  done  much,  as  they  always  have;  but 
where  is  the  play  that  has  stood  any  test  of 
time  in  which  the  point  of  view  is  not  just 
the  opposite,  the  strangeness  of  the  powers 
that  help  or  impede  the  course  of  man,  — 
mystery,  not  the  clearness  of  the  scientific 
treatise?  The  wrongs  done  in  the  name  of 
science  have  been  no  greater  to  religion 
than  they  have  been  to  art  and  the  criticism 
of  art. 

Not  the  least  of  the  evil  results  of  letting 
science  out  of  bounds  is  its  injury  to  language. 
Mr.  Morley's  large  vocabulary,  the  result  of 
wide  reading  in  several  languages,  is  made  up 
indiscriminately  of  words  that  are  formal  and 
lifeless,  and  words  that  have  real  blood  in 
them.  His  imagery  shows  the  same  influence. 
In  the  following  passage  from  the  essay  on 
Condorcet  the  "less  picturesquely"  thrown 
in  parenthetically  from  a  mere  passion  for 
passing  judgments  is  full  of  suggestion  about 
the  critic  who  threw  it  in ;  but  the  quotation 
is  made  especially  to  show  the  chilling  anti- 
climax of  the  non-conducting  metaphor  after 
the  pictures  which  preceded  it. 


MR.   JOHN   MORLEY 

" ' Cordorcet,'  said  D'Alembert,  'is  a  volcano 
covered  with  snow.'  Said  another,  less  pictur- 
esquely, *  He  is  a  sheep  in  a  passion.'  '  You  may 
say  of  the  intelligence  of  Condorcet  in  relation  to 
his  person,'  wrote  Madame  Roland,  'that  it  is  a 
subtle  essence  soaked  in  cotton.'  The  curious 
mixture  disclosed,  by  sayings  like  these,  of  warm 
impulse  and  fine  purpose  with  immovable  reserve, 
only  shows  that  he  of  whom  they  were  spoken 
belonged  to  the  class  of  natures  which  may  be 
called  non-conducting." 

This  lack  of  artistic  feeling  for  language, 
which  accompanies  so  naturally  the  cloud 
of  moral  judgments  which  checker  all  of 
Mr.  Morley's  writings,  shows  itself  amus- 
ingly in  single  epithets.  Turgot,  whenever 
he  is  mentioned,  however  casually,  is  always 
"the  great"  or  "  the  wise  Turgot;  "  "justly," 
"  admirably,"  "  rightly,"  are  constantly  stuck 
on  to  quoted  judgments,  with  no  other  effect 
than  to  destroy  the  charm ;  a  swarm  of  things 
in  the  world  happen  "  too  often ;  "  unpleasant 
words  like  "  hateful  "  hover  over  the  pages ; 
if  the  laxities  of  genius  are  mentioned,  the 
English  nation  is  immediately  dubbed  with 
an  unpleasant  adjective  for  its  supposed  cen- 
sures on  the  genius's  conduct ;  "  only  partly 
true  "  is  fastened  like  an  icicle  on  to  an  inter- 
esting quotation, — and  so  on  as  long  as  one 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

chose  to  continue  the  task  of  showing  speci- 
fically the  evil  wrought  in  literary  execution 
by  the  subordination  of  artistic  to  moral 
sensibility.  Mr.  Morley  is  well  able  to  see 
this  truth  in  others.  "  Macaulay's  pages,"  he 
says,  "  are  the  record  of  sentences  passed,  not 
the  presentation  of  human  characters  in  all 
their  fulness  and  color."  The  moralist  has 
his  excuse  for  being  and  for  writing,  but  it  is 
a  commonplace  that  the  laws  of  art  apply  to 
his  work  also. 

One  of  the  most  curious  manifestations  of 
the  moralistic  spirit,  more  entertaining  per- 
haps than  displeasing,  the  confident  dealing 
in  superlatives,  has  already  been  mentioned, 
but  the  examples  of  it  which  Mr.  Morley  fur- 
nishes are  so  numerous  and  so  extreme  that 
the  temptation  to  collect  a  few  of  them  is 
irresistible.  Voltaire  is  "  the  greatest  worker 
that  has  ever  lived,"  "  the  most  graceful  of  all 
courtiers,"  and  "  the  most  trenchant  writer  in 
the  world ;  "  his  letters  "  are  wittier  than  any 
other  letters  in  the  world,"  and  his  Akakia  is 
"  the  wittiest  and  most  pitiless  of  all  the  purely 
personal  satires  in  the  world."  Cicero  is  "  the 
most  eloquent  of  consuls  or  men,"  and 
Milton's  Areopagitica  is  "the  noblest  de- 
fence that  was  ever  made  of  the  noblest  of 
causes." 

3* 


MR.   JOHN   MORLEY 

"The  completeness  of  Catholicism  as  a  self- 
containing  system  of  life  and  thought  is  now  harder 
for  Protestants  or  Sceptics  to  realize  than  any  other 
fact  in  the  whole  history  of  human  society." 

"  These  transformations  of  religion  by  leavening 
elements  contributed  from  a  foreign  doctrine,  are 
the  most  interesting  process  in  the  history  of  truth." 

If  we  are  tempted  to  ask  what  is  the  use  of 
such  infallibility,  Mr.  Morley  can  tell  us  by 
condemning  the  opposite,  which  he  does,  usu- 
ally sarcastically,  with  a  persistence  equal  to 
his  untiring  statement  of  universals.  He 
speaks  of  "  the  marvellously  multiplying  be- 
liefs of  which  we  hear  that  they  may  be  half 
right  and  half  wrong;"  and  of  "our  lofty 
new  idea  of  rational  freedom  as  freedom  from 
conviction,  and  of  emanicipation  of  under- 
standing as  emancipation  from  the  duty  of 
settling  whether  important  propositions  are 
true  or  false."  It  is  not  necessary  to  decide 
whether  that  lofty  ideal  is  new  or  older  than 
Ecclesiastes,  or  whether  or  not  it  is  wiser 
than  its  opposite,  in  order  to  dispose  of  the 
paradox  sometimes  put  forward  that  Mr. 
Morley  is  at  heart  a  Conservative,  or  of  his 
own  assertion  that  he  is  "  a  cautious  Whig  by 
temperament."  Does  he  or  the  nation  which 
he  scolds  come  nearest  to  deserving  this 
diatribe :  — 

3  33 


LITERARY    STATESMEN 

"  This  inability  to  conceive  of  conduct  except  as 
either  right  or  wrong,  and,  correspondingly  in  the 
intellectual  order,  of  teaching  except  as  either  true 
or  false,  is  at  the  bottom  of  that  fatal  spirit  oiparti- 
pris  which  has  led  to  the  noting  of  so  much  injus- 
tice, disorder,  immobility,  and  darkness  in  English 
intelligence." 

The  greatest  of  these  limitations,  the  lack 
of  a  message,  is  perhaps  what  justified  his 
turning  his  strength  from  literature  to  poli- 
tics, where  his  lack  of  beauty  and  of  free  play 
is  a  less  absolute  bar,  where  concentration 
and  will  can  do  more.  The  fixed  principles 
without  which  he  would  never  feel  safe  were 
required  before  he  came  near  to  concrete  life, 
while  he  still  saw  things  from  afar;  which 
marks  him  out  clearly  from  the  men  whose 
principles  seem  to  be  imbibed  unconsciously 
from  the  air  about  them,  so  that  they  become 
the  spokesmen  of  some  spirit  of  the  time, 
changing  often  to  express  varying  phases  of 
the  unseen  forces  that  guide  them.  The  far- 
reaching  results  in  moulding  issues,  especially 
through  his  influence  on  a  more  creative  per- 
sonality, are  known ;  but  even  in  his  steady 
onward  march  some  of  the  same  qualities 
that  hold  him  back  in  literature  show  them- 
selves. An  American  philosopher,  in  conver- 
sation, once  spoke  with  enthusiasm  of  Mr. 
34 


MR.   JOHN   MORLEY 

Morley's  character.  "  I  do  not  understand 
your  ardor,"  answered  a  Liberal  statesman. 
"  He  is  a  very  sensible  man,  but  he  is  a  pessi- 
mist." Even  when  Mr.  Morley  tells  us  cheer- 
ful things,  he  does  not  cheer  us.  There  is 
something  dreary  about  his  pictures  of  im- 
provements in  the  human  lot.  He  has  learned 
to  talk  more  of  good  than  of  evil,  but  even 
when  he  scolds  Mr.  Lecky  for  pessimism 
there  is  something  disheartening  in  his  words 
of  hope.  That  he  should  ever  actually  lead 
the  nation  is  not  easy  to  imagine,  when  we 
listen  to  a  tone  like  this :  — 

"  It  is  the  mark  of  the  highest  kind  of  union  be- 
tween sagacious,  firm,  and  clear-sighted  intelligence, 
and  a  warm  and  steadfast  glow  of  feeling,  when  a 
man  has  learnt  how  little  the  effort  of  the  individual 
can  do  either  to  hasten  or  direct  the  current  of 
human  destiny,  and  yet  finds  in  effort  his  purest 
pleasure  and  his  most  constant  duty.  If  we  owe 
honor  to  that  social  endeavor  which  is  stimulated 
and  sustained  by  an  enthusiastic  confidence  in 
speedy  and  full  fruition,  we  surely  owe  it  still  more 
to  those  who,  knowing  how  remote  and  precarious 
and  long  beyond  their  own  days  is  the  hour  of 
fruit,  yet  need  no  other  spur  nor  sustenance  than 
bare  hope,  and  in  this  strive  and  endeavor,  and  still 
endeavor.  Here  lies  the  true  strength." 


35 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

The  moralizings  of  the  man  of  action  are 
short  and  occasional,  and  they  are  never  reit- 
erated complaints  against  the  whole  nation 
which  they  lead.  One  example  of  this  nether 
side  of  the  moralist  spirit  in  Mr.  Morley  must 
suffice: — 

"  A  community,  in  short,  where  the  great  aim  of 
all  classes  and  orders  with  power  is,  by  dint  of  rig- 
orous silence,  fast  shutting  of  the  eyes,  and  stern 
stopping  of  the  ears,  somehow  to  keep  the  social 
pyramid  on  its  apex,  with  the  fatal  result  of  pre- 
serving for  England  its  glorious  fame  as  a  paradise 
for  the  well-to-do,  a  purgatory  for  the  able,  and  a 
hell  for  the  poor." 

For  the  statesman  who  is  content  to  take 
most  of  the  faults  of  the  nation  and  the  race 
for  granted,  to  offer  no  panacea  but  merely 
to  do  in  a  free  spirit  what  seems  best  from 
day  to  day,  Mr.  Morley  has  still  little  respect, 
though  more  perhaps  than  he  had  when  he 
spoke  of  "  that  sceptical  and  centrifugal  state 
of  mind  which  now  tends  to  nullify  organized 
liberalism  and  paralyze  the  spirit  of  improve- 
ment," which  perhaps  is  not  unlike  his  own 
in  content,  though  with  less  storm  and  stress. 
Yet  this  very  spirit,  which  takes  the  world 
artistically  and  serenely,  often  finds  much  to 
please  it  in  the  graceless  but  sterling  com- 
batant. Nobody  of  intelligence  would  fail  to 
36 


MR.   JOHN   MORLEY 

see  Mr.  Morley's  attractions  within  the  limi- 
tations of  the  species  to  which  he  belongs. 
His  personality  stands  out  as  something  real, 
something  impressive.  The  same  persistence 
that  makes  him  talk  forever  against  such  fixed 
machinery  as  diplomacy,  for  instance,  made 
him  risk  defeat  to  speak  his  belief  on  the  eight- 
hour  law.  The  faithfulness  that  made  him 
thorough  in  his  historical  studies  forced  him 
into  politics  in  middle  life,  because  he  could 
not  preach  one  thing  and  do  another.  The 
declamation  against  book  culture  borrows 
a  dignity  when  the  declaimer  bears  up  with 
such  courage,  after  almost  total  failure,  that  he 
gains  the  ear  of  the  nation.  The  world  has 
one  competent  statesman  more,  and,  instead 
of  the  hope  that  Mr.  Morley's  last  literary 
work  might  surpass  his  first,  it  has  the 
speeches  and  a  few  essays  in  which  the  old 
faults  are  missing,  and  with  them  the  old 
virtues.  There  seems  to  be  even  less  light 
in  the  struggle  than  at  first ;  and  the  pursuit 
of  the  higher  qualities  of  style  is  gone.  Yet 
even  from  the  literary  standpoint  we  can 
hardly  fail  to  be  satisfied  that  he  did  what  so 
few  do,  left  his  tastes  to  follow  where  his  rea- 
son pointed.  When  we  stand  off  and  look  at 
him  in  this  generalized  way,  his  faults  are  lost 
in  the  spectacle.  The  two  characters  of  states- 
37 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

man  and  moralist,  he  has  told  us,  "  are  always 
hard  to  reconcile,  as  perhaps  any  parliamen- 
tary candidate  might  tell  us.  The  contrast 
between  lofty  writing  and  slippery  policy  has 
been  too  violent  for  Seneca's  good  fame,  as 
it  was  for  Francis  Bacon's.  It  is  ever  at  his 
own  proper  risk  and  peril  that  a  man  dares 
to  present  high  ideals  to  the  world."  The 
inspiration  for  us  in  Mr.  Morley's  case  is  in 
the  inconceivability  of  his  failure  to  stand  by 
his  ideals.  His  arduous  success  marks  out 
the  superiority  of  the  true  scholar,  who  is  not 
much  out  of  place  anywhere,  while  his  par- 
ody the  pedant,  in  Mr.  Morley's  own  words, 
"  cursed  with  the  ambition  to  be  a  ruler  of 
men,  is  a  curious  study.  He  would  be  glad 
not  to  go  too  far,  and  yet  his  chief  dread  is 
lest  he  be  left  behind.  His  consciousness 
of  pure  aims  allows  him  to  become  an  ac- 
complice in  the  worst  of  crimes.  Suspecting 
himself  at  bottom  to  be  a  theorist,  he  hastens 
to  clear  his  character  as  a  man  of  practice  by 
conniving  at  an  enormity."  No  rational  per- 
son doubts  that  he  is  speaking  in  the  tone 
that  most  truly  represents  his  deepest  feeling 
when  he  says :  "  There  are  causes  that  de- 
mand and  deserve  fury  and  energy  and  the 
public  is  to  be  got  at  upon  no  other  terms,  — 
say  Anti-Slavery,  or  Reform;  and  men  are 
38 


MR.   JOHN   MORLEY 

properly  adjured  to  strip  off  coat  and  waist- 
coat, charm  or  no  charm."  Certainly  there 
is  little  of  what  is  properly  called  charm,  but 
a  quality  has  developed  itself  gradually  which 
perhaps  comes  nearer  to  it  than  anything 
else,  —  the  tone  of  quiet  sadness  in  which 
he  sometimes  sums  up  his  new  experiences, 
when  he  speaks  of  the  failure  of  democracy 
to  lead  toward  universal  peace,  or  when  he 
says :  "  It  is  one  of  the  inscrutable  perplex- 
ities of  human  affairs,  that  in  the  logic  of 
practical  life,  in  order  to  reach  conclusions 
that  cover  enough  for  truth,  we  are  constantly 
driven  to  premises  that  cover  too  much,  and 
that  in  order  to  secure  their  right  weight  to 
justice  and  reason,  good  men  are  forced  to 
fling  the  two-edged  sword  of  passion  into  the 
same  scale." 

John  Morley's  fanaticism,  wrote  James  Rus- 
sell Lowell,  "  is  always  exhilarating  to  me, 
though  I  feel  that  it  would  have  the  same 
placidly  convinced  expression  if  my  head 
were  rolling  at  his  feet  at  the  exigence  of 
some  principle."  That  judgment  certainly 
strikes  the  key-note.  Although  lack  of  art 
or  genius  has  followed  Mr.  Morley  from  let- 
ters into  politics,  although  his  love  of  abso- 
lute principle  is  in  opposition  to  the  spirit 
of  a  time  that  has  no  creed,  the  persistence 
39 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

which  has  helped  him  to  escape  failure  and 
the  straightness  of  his  course  make  a  picture 
that  has  some  of  the  stimulus  of  the  heroic. 
In  spite  of  the  distinctness  of  his  qualities, 
their  relative  importance  changes  so  readily 
with  the  mood  of  the  observer  that  it  is  not 
easy  to  keep  together  appreciation  of  his 
worth  and  understanding  of  his  limits.  Low- 
ell, by  the  humorous  choice  of  words,  has 
been  able  to  suggest  the  amusing  in  naming 
the  impressive.  On  the  one  hand  is  the  man 
whose  writing  is  full  of  the  perversities  of  the 
dogmatist  and  the  closet  philosopher,  whose 
statesmanship  lacks  instinct  and  sensitiveness 
to  facts  that  are  too  complex  for  statement, 
whose  whole  spirit  seems  thin  and  quarrel- 
some ;  and  on  the  other  hand  is  the  serious 
and  rather  sad  thinker  who  has  measured 
himself  without  vanity  and  taken  the  harder 
path  from  a  sense  of  duty,  who  thinks  he  sees 
some  changes  that  will  make  men  happier, 
and  who  follows  them  without  fear ;  who  took 
up  his  new  fight  not  to  complete  his  own 
experience  but  to  obey  that  truth  which  ex- 
ists for  him  in  a  more  tangible  and  discerni- 
ble, and  perhaps  in  a  more  limited  form  than 
it  does  for  most  men  of  his  size  in  our 
generation. 
1897. 

40 


MR.   BALFOUR   SEEN    FROM 
A   DISTANCE 


Ill 

MR.   BALFOUR   SEEN   FROM   A 
DISTANCE 

ALTHOUGH  it  is  difficult  to  judge  fairly  from 
his  books  alone  a  man  whose  activity  has 
taken  many  forms,  the  proverb  that  the  style 
is  the  man  is  not  an  empty  phrase.  What 
the  written  words  tell  us  is  truth,  though  often 
not  the  whole  truth.  Though  the  traits  picked 
out  of  the  expression  of  abstract  thought  may 
not  be  the  traits  that  would  be  prominent  in 
the  same  man  in  action,  in  his  social  or  politi- 
cal environment,  they  may  be  none  the  less 
intimately  an  outline  of  the  whole  personality. 
Many  persons  who  have  no  opportunity  to 
watch  Mr.  Balfour  in  Parliament,  in  society, 
in  recreation ;  no  opportunity  to  know  the 
facts  of  his  early  training  and  of  his  present 
life,  have  by  necessity  been  driven,  when  they 
wished  to  make  more  definite  their  idea  of 
the  picturesque  young  leader,  to  pick  up  sug- 
gestions in  his  books ;  and  of  these  many 
persons,  a  number  get  less  from  examining 
43 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

technically  his  system  of  philosophy  than  they 
do  from  looking  with  some  minuteness  at  his 
habits  of  expression. 

To  many  a  college  student  in  America  the 
name  of  A.  J.  Balfour,  which  he  discovers  on 
the  shelves  of  the  Department  of  Philosophy, 
is  almost  unknown.  By  a  class  of  students 
which  is  in  our  larger  universities  consider- 
able in  size,  the  discovery  of  a  "  Defence  of 
Philosophic  Doubt "  is  almost  invariably  wel- 
comed with  enthusiasm,  as  doubtless  hereafter 
his  later  and  more  popular  book  will  be  wel- 
comed. The  young  student  whose  love  of 
logic  has  made  him  a  personal  enemy  of  some 
of  the  present  scientists  is  delighted  at  the 
trenchant  style  in  which  his  newly  discovered 
ally  attacks  the  inconsistencies  of  the  leaders 
of  thought.  Mr.  Balfour  does  not  make  con- 
verts, but  he  gives  welcome  weapons  to  think- 
ers whose  attitude  is  the  same  and  whose 
strength  is  less.  The  young  metaphysician 
who  has  not  been  able  to  crystallize  his  pre- 
judice into  a  critical  system  finds  in  the  books 
of  Mr.  Balfour  much  help  in  stating  reasons 
for  his  rejection  of  the  various  systems  of 
philosophy,  and  thus,  being  able  to  accom- 
plish that  necessary  work,  he  is  able,  if  other 
things  are  in  him,  to  go  on  more  quickly.  "  If 
speculations  which  do  nothing  but  destroy 
44 


BALFOUR   FROM   A   DISTANCE 

seem  to  be,  as  indeed  they  are,  unsatisfactory 
even  from  a  practical  point  of  view,"  says  Mr. 
Balfour  in  "  A  Defence  of  Philosophic  Doubt," 
"  the  reader  must  recollect  that  definite  and 
rational  certainty  is  not  likely  to  be  obtained 
unless  we  first  pass  through  a  stage  of  definite 
and  rational  doubt." 

A  rational  certainty,  however,  though  it 
may  be  a  good  we  get  from  Mr.  Balfour,  is 
not  the  one  we  go  to  him  for.  His  readers, 
far  from  seeking  the  removal  of  difficulties, 
revel  in  them.  The  attraction  is  less  in  the 
final  result  of  his  thought  than  in  the  adroit- 
ness with  which  he  exposes  inconsistency  in 
established  thought.  Naturally  a  youth  of 
logical  and  critical  bent,  who  has  become 
irritated  at  the  deference  shown  to  men  of 
more  fertility  than  coherence,  revels  in  a  pas- 
sage like  this :  — 

"Looking  back  over  the  nineteen  chapters  we 
have  been  considering,  and  over  the  earlier  half  of 
the  '  First  Principles,'  it  is  impossible  not  to  regret 
that  the  ambition  to  produce  a  '  System  of  Philoso- 
phy '  should  have  forced  our  author  into  paths  where 
his  remarkable  powers  of  mind  show  to  compara- 
tively small  advantage.  Could  he  have  been  con- 
tent with  giving  to  the  world  '  Suggestions  toward 
a  Theory  of  the  Universe  on  the  Basis  of  the  Ordi- 
nary Scientific  Postulates,'  his  astonishing  faculty 

45 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

for  collecting  from  every  department  of  knowledge 
the  facts  which  seem  to  tell  in  his  favor  would  have 
had  free  scope,  while  his  somewhat  blunted  sensi- 
bilities in  the  matter  of  difficulties  and  contradic- 
tions might  have  been  of  actual  advantage.  In 
trespassing  on  metaphysical  grounds,  the  virtues 
which  he  possesses  as  a  thinker  —  his  extraordinary 
range  of  information  and  his  ingenuity  in  framing 
original  and  suggestive  hypotheses  —  become  com- 
paratively useless,  while  the  robust  faith  in  his 
methods  and  results  by  which  he  is  animated  — 
necessary  as  I  admit  it  to  be  in  order  that  he  may  be 
sustained  through  his  protracted  labors  —  is  from  a 
speculative  point  of  view  an  almost  unmixed  evil." 

Certainly  such  cutting  summaries,  in  which 
he  seems  to  rejoice  in  a  vocabulary  fitted  to 
his  critical  acuteness,  are  from  an  artistic 
standpoint  the  best  things  he  does.  This, 
like  his  other  powers,  is  more  obvious  than 
his  defects,  and  it  may  be  for  this  reason,  as 
well  as  for  the  purpose  of  exhibiting  an  easy 
magnanimity,  that  the  many  reviewers  who 
have  attacked  his  results  have  passed  off  his 
literary  qualities  with  a  few  words  of  praise. 
Yet  the  defects  of  his  style,  though  less  salient, 
are  as  undeniable  as  its  merits.  Indeed,  in 
literary  skill  he  is  often  so  deficient  as  to 
surprise  the  reader  who  has  a  taste  for  close 
examination. 

46 


BALFOUR   FROM   A   DISTANCE 

Perhaps  Mr.  Balfour's  highest  literary  merits 
may  be  roughly  summarized  as  subtlety  and 
originality.  It  is  his  subtlety  in  analysis  that 
makes  his  satire,  whether  or  not  it  is  backed 
by  conclusive  arguments,  go  for  a  point  at 
which  it  will  hurt,  and  where  it  will  be  diffi- 
cult to  parry.  Although  it  is,  for  instance, 
possible  to  believe  that  there  is  progress  in 
human  understanding,  and  that  this  belief  is 
final  and  needs  no  support,  it  is  not  easy,  in 
reading  the  following  dialogue,  to  avoid  the 
feeling  that  the  scientist  is  involved  in  a 
fallacy :  — 

"Evolutionist:  However  great  the  superiority  of 
my  views  may  be  over  those  of  my  remote  ancestors, 
or,  indeed,  over  those  of  my  contemporaries  who 
are  still  under  the  influence  of  tradition,  there  is 
every  reason  to  suppose  that  the  causes  which  have 
produced  this  superiority  are  still  in  operation,  and 
that  we  may  look  forward  to  a  time  when  the  opin- 
ions of  mankind  will  bear  the  same  relation  to  ours 
as  ours  bear  to  those  of  primitive  man. 

"  Inquirer :  A  glorious  hope  !  One,  neverthe- 
less, which  would  seem  to  imply  that  many  of  our 
present  views  are  either  entirely  wrong,  or  will 
require  profound  modification. 

"Evolutionist:  Doubtless. 

"  Inquirer :  It  would  be  interesting  to  know  which 
of  our  opinions,  or  which  class  of  them,  is  likely  to 
be  improved  in  this  way  off  the  face  of  the  earth. 
47 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

For  example,  is  the  opinion  you  have  just  expressed, 
that  beliefs  are  developed  according  to  law,  —  is 
that  opinion  likely  to  be  destroyed  by  develop- 
ment?" 

Of  course  Mr.  Balfour  himself  is  not  con- 
fused. No  one  knows  better  than  he  that,  as 
some  beliefs  must  be  final,  it  is  possible,  with 
clearness  at  least,  to  take  one's  final  stand 
on  a  belief  in  human  progress.  To  say  that 
progress  may  remove  the  belief  in  progress 
is  simply  to  express  a  disagreement  with  the 
final  assumption.  It  is  like  disagreeing  with 
Mr.  Balfour's  belief  in  God.  He  believes  in 
God  because  the  belief  unifies  a  number  of 
other  beliefs  which,  for  working  purposes,  he 
wishes  to  hold.  The  scientist's  belief  in  prog- 
ress has  the  same  foundation. 

Although,  however,  Mr.  Balfour  can  thus 
use  his  subtlety  in  support  of  an  argument 
known  by  him  to  be  unsound,  he  is  even 
stronger  in  expression  when  he  supports  prin- 
ciples in  which  he  believes.  To  say  that 
these  principles  are  negative  is  not  to  sug- 
gest any  dislike  of  them.  When  the  author's 
strong  tastes  are  attacked  as  unprogressive, 
he  resents  the  attack  with  a  tu  quoque  argu- 
ment of  such  vividness  that  it  comes  nearer 
than  anything  else  in  his  books  to  emotional 
power.  Sometimes  the  thrust  is  delicate,  as 
48 


BALFOUR   FROM   A   DISTANCE 

in  this  reference  to  Matthew  Arnold's  substi- 
tute for  the  established  faith :  — 

"  There  are  those,  again,  who  reject  in  its  ordinary 
shape  the  idea  of  divine  superintendence,  but  who 
conceive  that  they  can  escape  from  philosophic 
reproach  by  beating  out  the  idea  yet  a  little  thinner, 
and  admitting  that  there  does  exist  somewhere  a 
'power  which  makes  for  righteousness.'  " 

Sometimes  it  is  rough,  even  crude,  especially 
when  he  speaks  of  the  positivists :  — 

"  Mr.  Spencer,  who  pierces  the  future  with  a  surer 
gauge  than  I  can  make  the  least  pretence  to,  looks 
confidently  forward  to  a  time  when  the  relation  of 
man  to  his  surroundings  will  be  so  happily  contrived 
that  the  reign  of  absolute  righteousness  will  prevail ; 
conscience,  grown  unnecessary,  will  be  dispensed 
with ;  the  path  of  least  resistance  will  be  the  path 
of  virtue ;  and  not  the  '  broad '  but  the  *  narrow 
way '  will  '  lead  to  destruction.'  These  excellent 
consequences  seem  to  me  to  flow  very  smoothly 
and  satisfactorily  from  his  particular  doctrine  of 
evolution,  combined  with  his  particular  doctrine 
of  morals.  But  I  confess  that  my  own  personal 
gratification  at  the  prospect  is  somewhat  dimmed 
by  the  reflection  that  the  same  kind  of  causes  which 
make  conscience  superfluous  will  relieve  us  from 
the  necessity  of  intellectual  effort,  and  that  by  the 
time  we  are  all  perfectly  good  we  shall  also  be  all 
perfectly  idiotic." 

4  49 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

The  insertion  of  such  sign-posts  of  irony  as 
"  excellent  "  consequences,  "  his  particular  " 
doctrine,  and  the  pretentious  final  phrase 
which  covers  the  venerable  contention  that 
the  struggle  with  evil  is  necessary  for  intelli- 
gent life,  is  characteristic  of  his  rougher  satire. 
Though  the  satire  is  rather  refreshing,  even 
to  one  who  laughs  at  it  rather  than  at  its  ob- 
ject, it  is  hardly  dignified,  and  it  is  a  contrast 
to  the  style  in  which  he  expresses,  with  no 
enemy  in  mind,  his  own  beliefs. 

Critics  of  his  philosophy  often  assert  that 
he  has  no  beliefs.  They  charge  him  with 
insincerity,  and  attempt  to  prove  the  charge 
by  showing  him  stating  at  one  time  one  truth 
and  at  another  its  opposite.  It  is  undoubt- 
edly easy  to  bring  together  passages  on  both 
sides  of  all  of  the  philosophic  controversies 
which  he  discusses.  A  striking  contrast,  for 
instance,  might  be  made  between  his  pictures 
of  the  bad  effects  of  the  over  emphasis  of 
science,  and  his  explanations  of  the  absolute 
impossibility  of  knowing  what  present  tend- 
encies are  for  good  and  what  for  bad.  It  is  no 
cause  for  wonder  that  some  readers  feel  an  in- 
consistency between  the  author's  confident 
statements  of  the  ultimate  results  that  will  fol- 
low from  certain  beliefs  or  from  certain  failures 
to  believe,  and  such  a  passage  as  this :  — 
5° 


BALFOUR   FROM   A   DISTANCE 

"  The  ceaseless  conflict,  the  strange  echoes  of 
long-forgotten  controversies,  the  confusion  of  pur- 
pose, the  success  in  which  lay  deep  the  seeds  of 
future  evils,  the  failures  that  ultimately  divert  the 
otherwise  inevitable  danger,  the  heroism  which 
struggles  to  the  last  for  a  cause  predoomed  to 
defeat,  the  wickedness  which  sides  with  right,  and 
the  wisdom  which  huzzas  with  the  triumph  of  folly, 
—  fate,  meanwhile,  amidst  this  turmoil  and  per- 
plexity, working  silently  towards  the  predestined 
end,  —  all  these  form  together  a  subject  the  con- 
templation of  which  need  surely  never  weary." 

Why,  then,  one  might  well  ask,  may  we  not 
look  at  the  confused  efforts  of  the  scientist  as 
an  interesting  part  of  this  incalculable  specta- 
cle, instead  of  quarrelling  with  him  over  some 
immediate  consequences  that  we  think  bad? 
Of  course  the  answer  is  really  simple.  Con- 
sistency, to  quote  Emerson,  is  a  vice  of  small 
minds.  The  fact  that  Mr.  Balfour's  argu- 
ments do  not  all  pull  in  the  same  direction  is 
not  an  argument  against,  but  for  his  sincerity. 
His  desires  and  his  beliefs  are  various.  He 
likes  to  use  his  acuteness  in  pointing  out  the 
incongruities  in  the  creeds  of  others,  and  he 
is  aware,  also,  of  the  flaws  in  his  own  doc- 
trines, although,  as  part  of  the  game,  he  pro- 
tects as  well  as  he  can  the  vulnerable  points 
in  his  own  creed.  His  insincerity  is  superfi- 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

cial.  He  is  perfectly  frank  with  himself.  That 
he  knows  that  his  own  vulnerable  points  are 
much  like  those  of  his  adversaries,  and  covers 
this  fact  for  forensic  purposes,  is  no  reason  to 
doubt  his  earnestness.  Though  the  talk  occa- 
sionally made  about  his  ardent  faith  by  the 
orthodox  persons  whom  he  supports  is  some- 
what absurd,  he  has  a  strong  sincerity  of  his 
own  sceptical  kind,  —  a  sincerity  as  strong  as 
that  of  any  of  his  positivist  opponents,  and 
to  one  seeking  the  incongruous  equally  gro- 
tesque. Sincerity  as  a  matter  of  temperament, 
of  general  attitude  toward  life,  he  has  in  abun- 
dance. Life  to  him  is  serious  in  a  high  degree. 
With  any  detail  of  it,  a  religion,  a  personality, 
a  science,  he  deals  lightly  in  some  moods; 
but  toward  existence  as  a  whole  he  is  never 
flippant;  through  all  his  doubt  and  satire  is 
a  genuine  sense  of  wonder,  interest,  and  igno- 
rance, a  feeling  of  the  complexity  and  awful- 
ness  of  life,  —  the  feeling  that  gives  dignity 
to  the  ablest  sceptics.  One  feels  this  less  in 
single  passages  than  in  the  books  as  a  whole. 
The  reason  for  this  is  that  Mr.  Balfour's  single 
passages  usually  show  more  his  weakness  than 
his  strength.  However,  this  sense  of  wonder, 
resignation,  and  powerlessness  is  frequently 
shown,  sometimes  with  rhetoric,  sometimes 
simply.  It  is  seen  less  convincingly  in  his 
52 


BALFOUR   FROM    A    DISTANCE 

direct  exhortations  and  statements  of  belief 
than  in  indirect  ways,  such  as  his  tone  in  his 
appreciations  of  character,  —  especially  his 
appreciation  of  noble  men  engaged  in  futile 
efforts.  In  such  estimates,  where  it  is  not  the 
fighter  but  the  man  of  taste  who  speaks,  his 
style  loses  its  crudity,  and  gains  a  warmth  and 
simplicity  that  touch  the  feelings  and  gain  the 
approval  of  the  reader  who  can  take  in  the 
flights  of  militant  rhetoric  only  an  ironical 
interest.  This  side  of  Mr.  Balfour  is  in  the 
last  part  of  this  passage  from  his  latest  book : 

"  Metaphysicians  are  poets  who  deal  with  the 
abstract  and  the  supersensible  instead  of  the  con- 
crete and  the  sensuous.  To  be  sure,  they  are  poets 
with  a  difference.  Their  appropriate  and  char- 
acteristic gifts  are  not  the  vivid  realization  of  that 
which  is  given  in  experience ;  their  genius  does  not 
prolong,  as  it  were,  and  echo  through  the  remotest 
regions  of  feeling  the  shock  of  some  definite  emo- 
tion ;  they  create  for  us  no  new  worlds  of  things  and 
persons ;  nor  can  it  be  often  said  that  the  product 
of  their  labors  is  a  thing  of  beauty.  .  .  .  Yet,  in 
spite  of  all  this,  they  can  only  be  justly  estimated  by 
those  who  are  prepared  to  apply  to  them  a  quasi- 
aesthetic  standard.  .  .  .  For  claims  to  our  admira- 
tion will  still  be  found  in  their  brilliant  intuitions,  in 
the  subtlety  of  their  occasional  arguments,  in  their 
passion  for  the  Universal  and  _the  Abiding,  in  their 
53 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

steadfast  faith  in  the  rationality  of  the  world,  in 
the  devotion  with  which  they  are  content  to  live 
and  move  in  realms  of  abstract  speculation  too  far  re- 
moved from  ordinary  interests  to  excite  the  slightest 
sympathy  in  the  breasts  even  of  the  cultivated  few." 

This  passage  illustrates  what  I  called  his 
second  power,  originality.  He  has  generally 
most  originality  where  he  has  least  obvious 
subtlety.  Originality  in  this  sense  is  direct- 
ness of  thought,  freshness  of  point  of  view, 
individuality.  To  be  original,  said  Goethe, 
is  to  say  and  do,  as  though  it  had  never  been 
done  before,  what  many  say  and  do  every 
day.  It  is  in  his  tastes,  his  enjoyments,  and 
his  sympathies,  that  Mr.  Balfour  shows  most 
of  this  individual  thought  and  feeling.  The 
sympathetic  picture  of  the  metaphysician 
illustrates  it.  It  is  illustrated  also,  for  in- 
stance, in  his  sympathy  with  the  average 
man's  motiveless  curiosity.  Of  the  many 
men  who  recognize  that  the  consequences  of 
an  interest  are  not  the  only  standard  of  ap- 
preciation, that  there  is  the  direct  aesthetic 
standard  also,  few  give  an  expression  to  these 
immediate  values  of  more  convincing  sincerity 
than  the  expression  of  Mr.  Balfour :  — 

"  We  hear  much  of  what  is  called  '  idle  curiosity,1 
but  I  am  loath  to  brand  any  form  of  curiosity  as 
54 


BALFOUR   FROM   A   DISTANCE 

necessarily  idle.  Take,  for  example,  one  of  the 
most  singular,  but  in  this  age  one  of  the  most  uni- 
versal, forms  in  which  it  is  accustomed  to  manifest 
itself,  —  I  mean  that  of  an  exhaustive  study  of  the 
morning  and  evening  papers.  It  is  certainly 
remarkable  that  any  person  who  has  nothing  to  get 
by  it  should  destroy  his  eyesight  and  confuse  his 
brain  by  a  conscientious  attempt  to  master  the  dull 
and  doubtful  details  of  the  European  diary  daily 
transmitted  to  us  by  '  Our  Special  Correspondent.' 
But  it  must  be  remembered  that  this  is  only  a  some- 
what unprofitable  exercise  of  that  disinterested  love 
of  knowledge  which  moves  men  to  penetrate  Polar 
snows,  to  build  up  systems  of  philosophy,  or  to 
explore  the  secrets  of  the  remotest  heavens.  ...  I 
admit,  of  course,  at  once  that  discoveries  the  most 
apparently  remote  from  human  concerns  have  often 
proved  themselves  of  the  utmost  commercial  or 
manufacturing  value.  But  they  require  no  such 
justification  for  their  existence,  nor  were  they  striven 
for  with  any  such  object." 

This  sympathy  with  a  thing  for  itself,  not 
for  its  consequences,  is  the  one  element  of 
imagination  that  Mr.  Balfour  has.  He  lacks 
the  creative,  the  expressive  elements.  He 
cannot  give  life  to  a  character  sketch,  or  pas- 
sion to  an  argument,  although  his  sympathy 
with  the  logic  of  many  points  of  view  is  keen. 
"  Argument  is  all  I  have  to  offer,"  he  says  in 
closing  his  "  Defence  of  Philosophic  Doubt." 
55 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

The  phrase  has  the  sound  of  grave  resignation 
to  a  limitation.  His  arguments  sometimes 
make  us  feel  that  the  author  has  warmth,  con- 
viction, sympathy.  The  warmth  is  for  many 
things,  excessive  for  none;  the  conviction  is 
of  the  absolute  values  of  certain  temperaments 
and  attitudes,  apart  from  any  outside  standard 
of  worth ;  the  sympathy  is  with  the  rational 
essence  of  a  character,  not  with  its  details,  its 
concrete  embodiment.  This  personality,  lack- 
ing as  it  is  in  brilliant  colors,  is  one  for  which 
it  is  possible  to  have  strong  affection  and  deep 
respect,  for  it  is  earnest  and  it  is  individual. 
One  may  care  little  for  Mr.  Balfour's  skilful 
force,  and  much  for  his  breadth  of  sympathy 
and  for  the  first-hand  quality  of  his  thought. 
The  happiest  illustrations  of  his  personality 
in  his  style  are  in  homely  similes :  — 

"  Do  they  follow,  I  mean,  on  reason  qua  reason, 
or  are  they,  like  a  schoolboy's  tears  over  a  proposi- 
tion of  Euclid,  consequences  of  reasoning,  but  not 
conclusions  from  it?" 

This  is  Mr.  Balfour  at  his  best,  exact,  ready, 
at  once  harmonious  and  grave,  with  a  simpli- 
city of  illustration  well  suited  to  his  subtlety 
of  distinction :  — 

"...  the  right  of  every  individual  to  judge  for 
himself  is  like  the  right  of  every  man  who  possesses 
56 


BALFOUR    FROM    A   DISTANCE 

a  balance  at  his  banker's  to  require  its  immediate 
payment  in  sovereigns.  The  right  may  be  un- 
doubted, but  it  can  only  be  safely  enjoyed  on 
condition  that  too  many  persons  do  not  take  it 
into  their  heads  to  exercise  it  together." 

Sometimes,  though  less  often,  there  is  the 
same  felicity  in  his  more  serious,  or  rather 
more  solemn,  expressions.  The  felicity  is 
naturally  rarer  in  expressing  moods  that  are 
taken  with  effort.  Religion,  in  the  sense  in 
which  he  defends  it,  is  not  an  emotion  with 
Mr.  Balfour.  He  has  not  even  a  feeling  of 
congeniality  and  companionship  with  it.  He 
is  only  its  protector.  It  is  religion  as  a  branch 
of  aesthetics,  and  religion  as  a  conclusion  of 
logic,  that  are  spontaneous  interests  for  him. 
When  he  takes  a  high,  solemn  tone  about  it, 
he  is  flowery  and  stilted.  It  is  when  he  talks 
with  his  native  ease  and  irony  that  his  fresh- 
ness, urbanity,  and  clearness  appear :  — 

"  We  do  not,  for  example,  step  over  a  precipice 
because  we  are  dissatisfied  with  all  the  attempts 
to  account  for  gravitation.  In  theology,  however, 
experience  does  lean  too  timidly  on  theory.  .  .  . 
Because  they  cannot  contrive  to  their  satisfaction 
a  system  of  theological  jurisprudence  which  shall 
include  Redemption  as  a  leading  case,  Redemption 
is  no  longer  to  be  counted  among  the  consolations 
of  mankind." 

57 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

Mr.  Balfour  is,  then,  at  his  best  remarkably 
keen,  apt,  simple,  and  individual.  Of  the 
faults  to  be  set  opposite  these  merits  the 
largest  is  effort  Not  only  is  the  argument 
often  perfunctory  and  dry,  but  the  rhetoric 
with  which  it  is  supported  is  forced  and  flat. 
Perhaps  a  satisfactory  proof  of  this  is  in 
the  last  half  of  a  passage  which  has  been 
praised  more  than  any  other  Mr.  Balfour 
has  written :  — 

"  Man,  so  far  as  natural  science  by  itself  is  able  to 
teach  us,  is  no  longer  the  final  cause  of  the  universe, 
the  heaven-descended  heir  of  all  the  ages.  His 
very  existence  is  an  accident,  his  story  a  brief  and 
transitory  episode  in  the  life  of  one  of  the  meanest  of 
the  planets.  Of  the  combination  of  causes  which 
first  converted  a  dead  organic  compound  into  the 
living  progenitors  of  humanity,  science,  indeed,  as 
yet  knows  nothing.  It  is  enough  that  from  such 
beginnings  famine,  disease,  and  mutual  slaughter,  fit 
nurses  of  the  future  lords  of  creation,  have  gradually 
evolved,  after  infinite  travail,  a  race  with  conscience 
enough  to  feel  that  it  is  vile,  and  intelligence  enough 
to  know  that  it  is  insignificant.  We  survey  the  past, 
and  see  that  its  history  is  of  blood  and  tears,  of 
helpless  blundering,  of  wild  revolt,  of  stupid  acqui- 
escence, of  empty  aspirations." 

One  of  the  most  striking  examples  of  his 
weak  efforts  for  literary  effect  is  in  the  middle 
58 


BALFOUR   FROM   A   DISTANCE 

of  one  of  his  most  interesting  passages.  In 
speaking  of  Handel  he  is  trying  to  suggest  a 
quality,  "the  one  most  valued  in  modern 
art,"  which  Handel  lacks :  — 

"Pathos  hardly  renders  it;  for  though  it  can 
hardly  be  cheerful,  it  need  be  impregnated  with 
no  more  than  the  faintest  and  most  luxurious  flavor 
of  melancholy.  There  is  in  it  something  indirect, 
ambiguous,  complex." 

Thus  far  all  is  well ;  but  now  comes  an  ab- 
surd statement  absurdly  illustrated  :  "  Though 
in  itself  positive  enough,  it  is,  perhaps,  most 
easily  described  by  negatives.  It  is  not  grief, 
nor  joy,  nor  despair,  nor  merriment."  Obvi- 
ously the  statement  that  it  is  best  described 
by  negatives  is  put  in  to  introduce  the  string 
of  words  in  the  next  sentence.  To  say  that 
this  vague  melancholy  is  not  grief  is  well 
enough;  it  is  not  altogether  absurd  to  say 
that  it  is  not  despair ;  but  the  statement  that 
it  is  not  joy  or  merriment  is  born  of  the  desire 
to  make  a  sounding  sentence.  The  rest  of  the 
exposition  is  done  more  intelligently :  — 

"  It  is  no  simple  emotion  struck  direct  out  of  the 
heart  by  the  shock  of  some  great  calamity  or  some 
unlooked  for  good  fortune.  If  it  suggests,  as  it 
often  does,  an  unsatisfied  longing,  it  is  a  longing 
vague  and  far  off,  which  reaches  toward  no  defined 
59 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

or  concrete  object.  It  is  the  product  and  the  de- 
light of  a  highly-wrought  civilization,  but  of  a  civili- 
zation restless  and  tormented,  neither  contented 
with  its  destiny  nor  at  peace  with  itself." 

In  beginning  the  explanation,  Mr.  Balfour 
thus  prefaced  his  way :  — 

"  To  describe  this  with  accuracy,  nay,  to  describe 
it  at  all,  is  scarcely  possible.  Even  to  indicate 
vaguely  its  nature  is  not  easy ;  since  music,  not 
literature,  has  been  its  chief  exponent,  and  for  these 
fine  shades  of  sentiment  language  scarcely  provides 
a  terminology  of  sufficient  delicacy  and  precision." 

It  may  make  vivid  Mr.  Balfour's  entire  lack 
of  strong  and  simple  strokes  in  any  writing 
but  the  ironical  or  the  purely  logical  to  com- 
pare all  this  mixture  of  sense  and  nonsense 
with  a  few  words  on  the  same  subject  from 
Turgenieff 's  "  Fathers  and  Sons  " :  — 

"But  since  I  have  just  pronounced  this  word 
'  happiness,'  I  must  ask  you  a  question.  Why,  even 
when  we  enjoy  music,  for  example,  a  fine  evening, 
or  a  conversation  with  one  who  sympathizes  with  us, 
—  why  does  the  enjoyment  appear  to  us  an  allusion 
to  some  unknown  happiness  to  be  found  somewhere 
else,  much  rather  than  real  happiness,  a  happiness 
that  we  are  ourselves  enjoying?  Answer  me.  .  -  ." 
60 


BALFOUR   FROM   A   DISTANCE 

Taken  even  more  in  detail,  Mr.  Balfour's 
style  shows  a  similar  lack  of  firmness.  To 
one  who  knows  his  history  before  he  reads 
his  books,  it  is  a  surprise  to  find  ineffective 
words,  faults  of  grammar,  and  awkward  con- 
structions in  his  style.  Not  only  his  known 
interest  in  literature,  but  the  quality  of  his 
thought  when  he  analyzes  politics,  ethics,  or 
persons,  would  lead  one  to  expect  from  him 
an  instinct  for  the  structure  of  language,  its 
technique.  Yet  his  pages  are  full  of  the  most 
elementary  mistakes.  These  things  are  the 
more  surprising  that  his  style  suggests  much 
care  and  revision.  This  shows  how  little 
instinct  he  has  for  form  in  writing.  There 
seems  to  be  only  one  of  the  grammatical 
errors  that  usually  come  from  a  lack  of  liter- 
ary training  that  he  avoids.  He  never  uses 
the  split  infinitive.  As  this  error,  though  less 
awkward  and  illogical  than  the  mistakes  Mr. 
Balfour  makes  constantly,  has  been  more  dis- 
cussed, his  avoidance  of  it  shows  that  he  is 
willing  to  write  correctly  when  he  is  told  how, 
but  that  he  is  himself  without  the  instinct. 

Allied  to  his   incorrectness   in   construc- 
tion is  a  use  of  superfluous  and  weakening 
words.     It    is  almost   grotesque  to  find  an 
explanatory    "rightly,"     "fortunately,"    or 
61 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

"unhappily,"  wherever  it  can  possibly  be 
inserted.  The  frequent  underscorings,  and 
the  absurdly  numerous  superlatives,  are 
other  similar  weaknesses  in  his  style.  He 
seldom  speaks  long  of  any  one  without 
giving  him  a  superlative  of  some  kind. 

It  is,  perhaps,  useless  to  argue  that  a 
multitude  of  small  weaknesses  of  this  kind 
have  a  marked  effect  on  the  power  of  the 
style  as  a  whole.  It  is  certainly  seldom 
that  a  man  so  keen  in  criticism  and  so  familiar 
with  all  the  arts  has  had  so  few  of  the  tech- 
nical merits  and  so  many  of  the  elementary 
faults  of  style.  His  sentences  have  none 
of  the  architectural  elements  of  style.  There 
is  no  force,  no  charm  gained  by  the  sound 
or  the  rhythm,  no  sonority  or  majesty. 
Therefore,  there  is  no  emotional  force  in 
Mr.  Balfour's  language,  and  no  artistic  at- 
traction. It  is  awkward,  jerky,  inaccurate, 
and  inelegant.  Of  course  it  would  be  easy 
to  deduce  too  much  from  this  entire  lack  of 
taste  in  composition.  It  would  hardly  lead 
to  truth  to  use  the  qualities  of  Mr.  Balfour's 
style  so  radically  as  he  himself  uses  the  style 
of  another  writer :  — 

"  Shaftesbury  is  not,  to  me  at  least,  an  attractive 
writer.      His  constant  efforts   to  figure  simultane- 
ously as  a  fine  gentleman  and  a  fine  writer  are 
62 


BALFOUR   FROM   A   DISTANCE 

exceedingly  irritating ;  and  the  very  moderate  suc- 
cess which  attended  his  efforts  in  the  latter  charac- 
ter suggests  the  doubt,  justified  by  his  later  style, 
whether  he  can  really  have  shone  in  the  former." 

Of  course  that  is  absurd.  Shaftesbury  may 
or  may  not  have  been  a  fine  gentleman,  how- 
ever little  relation  there  was  between  the 
pretensions  and  the  actual  value  of  his  style. 
Mr.  Balfour  is  certainly  a  man  of  the  best 
taste  in  some  ways;  and  the  fact  that  he 
sometimes  produces  bombast,  when  he  at- 
tempts to  produce  eloquence,  is  but  a  proof 
that  his  critical  power,  keen  as  it  is,  is 
limited  in  its  range.  Perhaps  the  most 
general  judgment  one  draws  from  Mr.  Bal- 
four's  style  is  that  what  there  is  of  the 
author  is  attractive,  but  that  the  personality 
is  not  a  very  large  one.  He  says  of 
Berkeley :  — 

"  Berkeley's  early  work  is  distinguished  not  only 
by  the  admirable  qualities  of  originality,  lucidity, 
and  subtlety,  but  by  a  less  excellent  characteristic, 
which  I  can  only  describe  as  a  certain  thinness  of 
treatment.  At  the  time  when  he  produced  these 
immortal  speculations  he  had  read  little  and  felt 
little.  No  experience  of  the  weary  entanglements 
of  concrete  facts  had  yet  suggested  to  him  that  a 
perfect  solution  of  the  problem  of  the  universe  is 
beyond  our  reach." 

63 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

Mr.  Balfour  has  seen  the  difficulties  of  facts, 
and  he  has  read  a  good  deal,  but  of  the  kind 
of  emotion  that  makes  strong  literature  he 
has  known  nothing.  Like  Berkeley's  early 
work,  his  books  are  original,  lucid,  subtle, 
and  rather  thin. 

When  Mr.  Balfour's  political  career  began 
we  used  to  read  ironical  criticisms  of  him 
as  a  dilettante,  a  literary  man,  a  youth  with- 
out vigor,  loving  music  and  art,  incapable 
of  stern  practical  work.  He  has  now  proved 
that  it  is  in  practical  activity  that  his  strength 
lies.  His  importance  is  neither  in  literature 
nor  in  philosophy,  but  in  the  field  from 
which  his  tastes  seemed  at  one  time  farthest 
removed.  He  has  the  power  of  dealing  with 
the  complex  facts,  guided  partly  by  general 
theories,  partly  by  instinct,  —  a  power  more 
interesting  in  him  than  in  most  statesmen, 
because  there  are  few  successful  men  of 
action  who  understand  the  instincts  on 
which  they  act  as  well  as  Mr.  Balfour  under- 
stands his.  He  puts  into  practical  politics 
a  subtler,  broader,  more  complicated  intel- 
ligence than  is  usually  found  there,  —  a 
thorough  scepticism,  combined  with  thorough 
earnestness.  His  beliefs  and  his  doubts  alike 
strengthen  him  in  this  branch  of  his  activity, 
though  they  are  not  beliefs  and  doubts  that 
64 


BALFOUR   FROM  A   DISTANCE 

form  a  great  style  or  a  great  philosophy.  He 
is  an  object  of  uncommon  interest  to  many 
to-day,  not  because  he  is  remarkable  as  a 
writer,  a  philosopher,  an  aristocrat,  or  a  dilet- 
tante, but  because  he  has  become  strong  in 
political  action,  with  no  loss  of  his  less  prac- 
tical interests.  It  is  a  rather  singular  figure 
that  rises  out  of  his  books,  —  a  character  of 
much  fineness  and  force,  with  general,  broad 
fairness  mixed  with  some  strong  prejudices ;  a 
mind  without  exuberant  powers,  though  with 
rare  keenness,  interested  always,  and  never 
excited.  It  is  a  mind  of  logic  primarily,  with 
little  passion  or  sense  of  form.  It  is  probably 
altogether  a  combination  that  exists  seldom, 
if  ever,  outside  of  England,  where  the  power 
of  action  has  more  often  than  elsewhere  been 
combined  with  the  temperament  that  looks 
out  on  the  world  as  a  panorama.  It  is  in 
England  that  we  see  most  often  the  uncom- 
promising critic  of  the  final  ends  of  life  in  the 
man  who  has  the  keenest  taste  for  the  battles 
about  him,  and  the  combination  has  seldom 
been  seen  in  so  striking  a  form  as  it  can  be 
seen  in  Mr.  Balfour. 
1895. 


STENDHAL 


IV 

STENDHAL 

THE  fact  that  none  of  his  work  has  been 
translated  into  English  is  probably  a  source 
of  amused  satisfaction  to  many  of  the 
lovers  of  Beyle.  Though  he  exercised  a 
marked  influence  on  Merimee,  was  wildly 
praised  by  Balzac,  was  discussed  twice  by 
Sainte-Beuve,  was  pointed  to  in  Maupas- 
sant's famous  manifesto-preface  to  "Pierre 
et  Jean ; "  though  he  has  been  twice  eulo- 
gized by  Taine,  and  once  by  Bourget;  and 
though  he  has  been  carefully  analyzed 
by  Zola,  —  he  is  read  little  in  France, 
and  scarcely  at  all  elsewhere.  While  his 
name,  at  his  death  scarcely  heard  beyond 
his  little  circle  of  men  of  letters,  has  be- 
come rather  prominent,  his  books  are  still 
known  to  very  few.  His  cool  prophecy 
that  a  few  leading  spirits  would  read  him 
by  1880  was  justified,  and  the  solution 
of  his  doubt  whether  he  would  not  by  1930 
have  sunk  again  into  oblivion  seems  now 
69 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

at  least  as  likely  as  it  was  then  to  be  an 
affirmative.  "To  the  happy  few"  he  dedi- 
cated his  latest  important  novel,  and  it  will 
be  as  it  has  been  for  the  few,  happy  in 
some  meanings  of  that  intangible  word,  that 
his  character  and  his  writings  have  a  serious 
interest. 

In  one  of  the  "Edinburgh  Review's" 
essays  on  Mme.  du  Deffand  is  a  rather 
striking  passage  in  which  Jeffrey  sums  up 
the  conditions  that  made  conversation  so 
fascinating  in  the  salons  of  the  France 
of  Louis  XV.  In  "Rome,  Florence,  et 
Naples,"  published  shortly  afterwards  by 
Beyle  under  his  most  familiar  pseudonym 
of  "Stendhal,"  is  a  conversation,  with  all 
the  marks  of  a  piece  of  genuine  evidence 
on  the  English  character,  between  the 
author  and  an  Englishman ;  and  yet  a  large 
part  of  what  is  given  as  the  opinion  of  this 
acquaintance  of  Beyle  is  almost  a  literal 
translation  of  Jeffrey's  remarks  on  the  con- 
ditions of  good  conversation.  Such  a  strik- 
ing phrase  as  "  Where  all  are  noble  all  are 
free "  is  taken  without  change,  and  the 
whole  is  stolen  with  almost  equal  thorough- 
ness. This  trait  runs  through  all  of  his 
books.  He  was  not  a  scholar,  so  he  stole 
his  facts  and  many  of  his  opinions,  with 
70 


STENDHAL 

no  acknowledgments,  and  made  very  pleas- 
ing books. 

Related,  perhaps,  to  this  quality,  are  the 
inexactness  of  his  facts  and  the  unreliability 
of  his  judgments.  Berlioz,  somewhere  in 
his  memoirs,  gives  to  Stendhal  half  a  dozen 
lines,  which  run  something  like  this  :  — 

"  There  was  present  also  one  M.  Beyle,  a  short 
man,  with  an  enormous  belly,  and  an  expression 
which  he  tries  to  make  benign  and  succeeds  in 
making  malicious.  He  is  the  author  of  a  '  Life  of 
Rossini,'  full  of  painful  stupidities  about  music." 

Painful  indeed,  to  a  critic  with  the  enthu- 
siasm and  the  mastery  of  Berlioz,  a  lot  of 
emphatic  judgments  from  a  man  who  was 
ignorant  of  the  technique  of  music,  who 
took  it  seriously  but  lazily,  and  who  could 
make  such  a  -  comment  at  the  end  of  a 
comparison  of  skill  with  inspiration,  as, 
"  What  would  not  Beethoven  do,  if,  with  his 
technical  knowledge,  he  had  the  ideas  of 
Rossini  ?  "  Imagine  the  passionate  lover  of 
the  noblest  in  music  hearing  distinctions 
drawn  between  form  and  idea  in  music, 
with  condescension  for  Beethoven,  by  a 
man  who  found  his  happiness  in  Cimarosa 
and  Rossini.  Imagine  Beyle  talking  of 
grace,  sweetness,  softness,  voluptuousness, 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

ease,  tune,  and  Berlioz  running  away  to  hide 
from  these  effeminate  notions  in  Beetho- 
ven's harmonies!  Imagine  them  crossing 
over  into  literature  and  coming  there  at  the 
height  to  the  same  name,  —  Shakespeare ! 
What  different  Shakespeares  they  are! 
Berlioz,  entranced,  losing  self-control,  feel- 
ing with  passion  the  glowing  life  of  the 
poet's  words,  would  turn,  as  from  some- 
thing unclean,  from  the  man  whose  love 
for  Macbeth  showed  itself  mostly  in  the 
citation  of  passages  that  give  fineness  to 
the  feelings  which  the  school  of  Racine 
thought  unsuited  to  poetry.  "You  use  it 
as  a  thesis,"  the  enthusiast  might  cry. 
"  The  grandeur,  the  wealth,  the  terror  of  it, 
escape  you.  You  see  his  delicacy,  his  pro- 
portion, a  deeper  taste  than  the  classic 
French  taste,  and  it  forges  you  a  weapon. 
But  you  are  not  swept  on  by  him,  you  never 
get  into  the  torrent,  you  are  cool  and 
shallow,  and  your  praise  is  profanation." 
Stendhal  read  Shakespeare  with  some  direct 
pleasure,  no  doubt,  but  he  was  always  on  the 
look-out  for  quotations  to  prove  some  thesis ; 
and  he  read  Scott  and  Richardson,  probably 
all  the  books  he  read  in  any  language,  in  the 
same  unabandoned,  restricted  way. 

In  painting  it   is    the  same.     It   is  with 
72 


STENDHAL 

a  narrow  and  dilettante  intelligence  that  he 
judges  pictures.  The  painter  who  feeds 
certain  sentiments,  he  loves  and  thinks 
great.  Guido  Reni  is  suave;  therefore 
only  one  or  two  in  the  world's  history  can 
compare  with  him.  One  of  them  is  Cor- 
reggio,  for  his  true  voluptuousness.  These 
are  the  artists  he  loves.  Others  he  must 
praise,  as  he  praised  Shakespeare,  to  sup- 
port some  attack  on  French  canons  of  art; 
therefore  is  Michelangelo  one  of  the  gods. 
The  effort  is  apparent  throughout ;  and  as  he 
recalls  the  fact  that  Mme.  du  Deffand  and 
Voltaire  saw  in  Michelangelo  nothing  but 
ugliness,  and  notes  that  such  is  the  attitude 
of  all  true  Frenchmen,  the  lover  of  Beyle 
smiles  at  his  effort  to  get  far  enough  away 
from  his  own  saturated  French  nature  to  love 
the  masculine  and  august  painter  he  is  prais- 
ing. Before  the  Moses,  Me'rime'e  tells  us, 
Beyle  could  find  nothing  to  say  beyond 
the  observation  that  ferocity  could  not  be 
better  depicted.  This  vague,  untechnical 
point  of  view  was  no  subject  of  regret  to 
Stendhal.  He  gloried  in  it.  "  Foolish  as 
a  scholar,"  he  says  somewhere;  and  in  an- 
other place,  "Vinci  is  a  great  artist,  pre- 
cisely because  he  is  no  scholar." 

Add  to  lack  of  truthfulness,  lack  of  thor- 
73 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

oughness  and  lack  of  imagination,  a  total  dis- 
regard for  any  moral  view  of  life, —  in  the 
sense  of  a  believing,  strenuous  view,  —  and 
you  have,  from  the  negative  side,  the  gen- 
eral aspects  of  Stendhal's  character.  He 
was  not  vicious,  —  far  from  it,  —  though  he 
admires  many  things  that  are  vicious.  He 
is  not  indecent,  for  "  the  greatest  enemy  of 
voluptuousness  is  indecency,"  and  voluptu- 
ousness tests  all  things.  The  keen  Duclos 
has  said  that  the  French  are  the  only  people 
among  whom  it  is  possible  for  the  morals 
to  be  depraved  without  either  the  heart 
being  depraved  or  the  courage  being  weak- 
ened. It  would  be  almost  unfair  to  speak 
of  Beyle's  morals  as  depraved,  as  even  in 
his  earliest  childhood  he  seems  to  have  been 
without  a  touch  of  any  moral  quality.  "  Who 
knows  that  the  world  will  last  a  week?"  he 
asks,  and  the  question  expresses  well  the 
instinct  in  him  that  made  him  deny  any 
appeal  but  that  of  his  own  ends.  Both 
morals  and  religion  really  repel  him.  It  is 
impossible  to  love  a  supreme  being,  he  says, 
though  we  may  perhaps  respect  him.  In- 
deed, he  believes  that  love  and  respect 
never  go  together,  —  that  grace,  which  he 
loves,  excludes  force,  which  he  respects; 
and  thus  he  loves  Reni  and  respects  Michel- 
74 


STENDHAL 

angelo.  Grace  and  force  are  the  opposite 
sides  of  a  sphere,  and  the  human  eye  cannot 
see  both.  As  for  him,  he  fearlessly  takes 
sympathy  and  grace  and  abandons  nobility. 
In  the  same  manner  that  he  excludes  stren- 
uous feelings  of  right  altogether,  he  makes 
painting,  which  he  thinks  the  nobler  art, 
secondary  to  music,  which  is  the  more  com- 
fortable. For  a  very  sensitive  man,  he  goes 
on,  with  real  coherence  to  the  mind  of  a 
Beylian,  painting  is  only  a  friend,  while 
music  is  a  mistress.  Happy  indeed  he  who 
has  both  friend  and  mistress.  In  some  of 
his  moods  the  more  austere,  the  nobler  and 
less  personal  tastes  and  virtues,  interest 
him,  for  he  is  to  some  extent  interested  in 
everything ;  but  except  where  he  is  support- 
ing one  of  his  few  fundamental  theses,  he 
does  not  deceive  himself  into  thinking  he 
likes  them,  and  he  never  takes  with  real 
seriousness  anything  he  does  not  like.  Ele- 
vation and  ferocity  are  the  two  words  he 
uses  over  and  over  again  in  explaining  that 
Michelangelo  alone  could  paint  the  Bible; 
and  the  very  poverty  of  his  vocabulary,  so 
discriminating  when  he  is  on  more  congenial 
subjects,  suggests  how  external  was  the 
acquaintance  of  Beyle  with  elevation  or 
ferocity,  with  Michelangelo  or  the  Bible. 
75 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

He  has  written  entertainingly  on  such  sub- 
jects, but  it  all  has  the  sound  of  guesswork. 
These  two  qualities,  with  which  he  sums  up 
the  sterner  aspects  of  life,  are  perhaps  not 
altogether  separable  from  a  third,  — dignity; 
and  his  view  of  this    last  may  throw  some 
light  on  the  nature  of   his    relations   with 
the  elevation  and  ferocity  he  praises.     Here 
is  a  passage  from  "  Le  Rouge  et  le  Noir " : 
"  Mathilde     thought     she     saw    happiness. 
This    sight,    all-powerful   with   people   who 
combine    courageous    souls    with    superior 
minds,    had   to   fight    long   against    dignity 
and  all  vulgar  sentiments  of  duty."     Equally 
lofty  is  his  tone  towards  other  qualities  that 
are  in  reality  part  of  the  same  attitude,  — 
a  tone  less  of  reproach  than  of  simple  con- 
tempt.    The  heroine  of   "  Le  Rouge  et  le 
Noir  "  is  made  to  argue  that  "  it  is  necessary 
to  return  in  good  faith  to  the  vulgar  ideas 
of  purity  and   honor."     Two   more   of   the 
social   virtues   are   disposed   of   by  him    in 
one  extract,    which,    by  the  way,  illustrates 
also   the  truly   logical   and   the   apparently 
illogical  nature  of  Stendhal's    thought.     It 
will  take  a  little  reflection  to  see  how  he  gets 
so  suddenly  from  industry  to  patriotism  in  the 
following  judgment,  but  the  coherence  of  the 
thought  will  be  complete  to  the  Beylian:  — 
76 


STENDHAL 

"  It  is  rare  that  a  young  Neapolitan  of  fourteen  is 
forced  to  do  anything  disagreeable.  All  his  life  he 
prefers  the  pain  of  want  to  the  pain  of  work.  The 
fools  from  the  North  treat  as  barbarians  the  citizens 
of  this  country,  because  they  are  not  unhappy  at 
wearing  a  shabby  coat.  Nothing  would  seem  more 
laughable  to  an  inhabitant  of  Crotona  than  to  sug- 
gest his  fighting  to  get  a  red  ribbon  in  his  button- 
hole, or  to  have  a  sovereign  named  Ferdinand  or 
William.  The  sentiment  of  loyalty,  or  devotion  to 
dynasty,  which  shines  in  the  novels  of  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  and  which  should  have  made  him  a  peer,  is 
as  unknown  here  as  snow  in  May.  To  tell  the 
truth,  I  don't  see  that  this  proves  these  people 
fools.  (I  admit  that  this  idea  is  in  very  bad  taste.)  " 

For  himself,  he  hated  his  country,  as  he 
curtly  puts  it,  and  loved  none  of  his  rela- 
tives. Patriotism,  for  which  his  contempt 
is  perhaps  mixed  with  real  hatred,  is  in 
his  mind  allied  to  the  worst  of  all  stupid 
tyrants,  propriety,  or,  as  he  more  often 
calls  it,  opinion,  his  most  violent  aversion. 
Napoleon,  he  thinks,  in  destroying  the 
custom  of  cavaliere  serviente,  simply  added 
to  the  world's  mass  of  ennui  by  ushering  into 
Italy  the  flat  religion  of  propriety.  He  is 
full  of  such  lucid  observations  as  that  the 
trouble  with  opinion  is  that  it  takes  a  hand 
in  private  matters,  whence  comes  the  sad- 
77 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

ness  of  England  and  America.  To  this 
sadness  of  the  moral  countries  and  the  moral 
people  he  never  tires  of  referring.  His 
thesis  carries  him  so  far  that  he  bunches 
together  Veronese  and  Tintoretto  under  the 
phrase,  "painters  without  ideal,"  in  whom 
there  is  something  dry,  narrow,  reason- 
able, bound  by  propriety;  in  a  word,  inca- 
pable of  rapture.  This  referring  to  some 
general  standard,  this  lack  of  directness,  of 
fervor,  of  abandonment,  is  illustrated  by 
the  Englishman's  praise  of  his  mistress, 
that  there  was  nothing  vulgar  in  her.  It 
would  take,  Beyle  says,  eight  days  to  explain 
that  to  a  Milanese,  and  then  he  would  have 
a  fit  of  laughter. 

These  few  references  illustrate  fairly  the 
instincts  and  beliefs  that  are  the  basis  of 
Stendhal's  whole  thought  and  life.  The 
absolute  degree  of  moral  scepticism  that  is 
needed  to  make  a  sympathetic  reader  of 
him  is  —  especially  among  people  refined 
and  cultivated  enough  to  care  for  his  sub- 
jects —  everywhere  rare.  I  call  it  a  moral 
rather  than  an  intellectual  scepticism,  be- 
cause, while  he  would  doubtless  deny  the 
possibility  of  knowing  the  best  good  of  the 
greatest  number,  a  more  ultimate  truth  is 
that  he  is  perfectly  indifferent  to  the  good 
78 


STENDHAL 

of  the  greatest  number.  It  is  unabashed 
egotism.  The  assertion  of  his  individual 
will,  absolute  loyalty  to  his  private  tastes, 
is  his  principle  of  thought  and  action,  and 
his  will  and  his  tastes  do  not  include  the 
rest  of  the  world  and  its  desires :  — 

"What  is  the  ME?  I  know  nothing  about  it. 
One  day  I  awoke  upon  this  earth ;  I  found  myself 
united  to  a  certain  body,  a  certain  fortune.  Shall  I 
go  into  the  vain  amusement  of  wishing  to  change 
them,  and  in  the  mean  time  forget  to  live  ?  That  is 
to  be  a  dupe.  I  submit  to  their  failings.  I  submit 
to  my  aristocratic  bent,  after  having  declaimed  for 
ten  years,  in  good  faith,  against  all  aristocracy.  I 
adore  Roman  noses,  and  yet,  if  I  am  a  Frenchman, 
I  resign  myself  to  having  received  from  heaven  only 
a  Champagne  nose  :  what  can  I  do  about  it  ?  The 
Romans  were  a  great  evil  for  humanity,  a  deadly 
disease  which  retarded  the  civilization  of  the 
world.  ...  In  spite  of  so  many  wrongs,  my  heart 
is  for  the  Romans." 

Thus,  in  all  the  details  of  his  extended 
comparison,  Beyle  tries  to  state  with  fairness 
the  two  sides,  —  the  general  good  and  the 
personal,  the  need  of  obedience  to  its  rules 
if  some  general  ends  of  society  are  to  be 
attained,  and  the  individual's  loss  from 
obedience.  He  states  with  fairness,  but  his 
79 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

own    choice  is  never  in  doubt.       He   goes 
to  what  directly  pleases  him:  — 

"  Shall  I  dare  to  talk  of  the  bases  of  morals  ? 
From  the  accounts  of  my  comrades  I  believe  that 
there  are  as  many  deceived  husbands  at  Paris  as  at 
Boulogne,  at  Berlin  as  at  Rome.  The  whole  differ- 
ence is  that  at  Paris  the  sin  is  caused  by  vanity,  and 
at  Rome  by  climate.  The  only  exception  I  find  is 
in  the  middle  classes  in  England,  and  all  classes  at 
Geneva.  But,  upon  my  honor,  the  drawback  in 
ennui  is  too  great.  I  prefer  Paris.  It  is  gay." 

His  tastes,  his  sympathies,  are  unhesitat- 
ingly with  the  Roman  in  the  following 
judgment:  — 

"  A  Roman  to  whom  you  should  propose  to  love 
always  the  same  woman,  were  she  an  angel,  would 
exclaim  that  you  were  taking  from  him  three  quar- 
ters of  what  makes  life  worth  while.  Thus,  at 
Edinburgh,  the  family  is  first,  and  at  Rome  it  is 
a  detail.  If  the  system  of  the  Northern  people 
sometimes  begets  the  monotony  and  the  ennui  that 
we  read  on  their  faces,  it  often  causes  a  calm  and 
continuous  happiness." 

This  steady  contrast  is  noted  by  his  mind 

merely,  his  logical    fairness.     His  mind  is 

judicial  in  a  sort  of  negative,  formal  sense; 

judicial    without    weight,    we    might    say. 

80 


STENDHAL 

He  does  not  feel,  or  see  imaginatively, 
sympathetically,  the  advantages  of  habitual 
constancy.  He  feels  only  the  truths  of  the 
other  side,  or  the  side  of  truth  which  he 
expresses  when  he  says  that  all  true  pas- 
sion is  selfish;  and  passion  and  its  truth 
are  the  final  test  for  him.  This  selfishness, 
which  is  even  more  self-reliance  than  it  is 
self-seeking,  which  has  his  instinctive  ap- 
proval in  all  moods,  is  directly  celebrated 
by  him  in  most.  The  more  natural  genius 
and  originality  one  has,  he  says,  the  more 
one  feels  the  profound  truth  of  the  remark 
of  the  Duchesse  de  Ferte,  that  she  found 
no  one  but  herself  who  was  always  right. 
And  not  only  does  natural  genius,  which  we 
might  sum  up  as  honesty  to  one's  instincts, 
or  originality,  make  us  contemptuous  of  all 
judgments- but  our  own;  it  leads  us  (so  far 
does  Beyle  go)  to  esteem  only  ourselves. 
Reason  makes  us  see,  and  prevents  our  act- 
ing, since  nothing  is  worth  the  effort  it 
costs.  Laziness  forces  us  to  prefer  our- 
selves, and  in  others  it  is  only  ourselves 
that  we  esteem. 

With  this  principle  as  his  broadest  gener- 
alization, it  is  not  unnatural  that  his  pro- 
foundest  admiration  was  for   Napoleon.       I 
am  a  man,  he  says  in  substance,  who  has 
6  81 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

loved  a  few  painters,  a  few  people,  and 
respected  one  man,  —  Napoleon.  He  re- 
spected a  man  who  knew  what  he  wanted, 
wanted  it  constantly,  and  pursued  it  fear- 
lessly, without  scruples  and  with  intelli- 
gence, with  constant  calculation,  with  lies, 
with  hypocrisy,  with  cruelty.  Beyle  used 
to  lie  with  remarkable  ease  even  in  his 
youth.  He  makes  his  almost  autobiograph- 
ical hero,  Julien  Sorel,  a  liar  throughout, 
and  a  hypocrite  on  the  very  day  of  his 
execution.  Beyle  lays  down  the  judgments 
about  Napoleon,  —  that  he  liked  argument, 
because  he  was  strong  in  it;  and  that  he 
kept  his  peace,  like  a  savage,  whenever 
there  was  any  possibility  of  his  being  seen 
to  be  inferior  to  any  one  else  in  grasp  of 
the  topic  under  discussion.  It  is  in  his  "  Life 
of  Napoleon  "  that  Beyle  dwells  as  persist- 
ently as  anywhere  on  his  never-ceasing 
principle,  —  examine  yourself;  get  at  your 
most  spontaneous,  indubitable  tastes,  de- 
sires, ambitions;  follow  them;  act  from 
them  unceasingly;  be  turned  aside  by 
nothing. 

It  is  possible,   in  going  through   Beyle's 

works  for  that  purpose,  to  find  a  remark  here 

and   there  that   might   possibly   indicate   a 

basis  of  faith  under  this  insistence,  a  belief 

82 


STENDHAL 

that  in  the  end  a  thorough  independence  of 
aim  in  each  individual  would  be  for  the  good 
of  all;  but  these  passing  words  really  do 
not  go  against  the  truth  of  the  statement 
that  Beyle  was  absolutely  without  the  moral 
attitude;  that  the  pleasing  to  himself  imme- 
diately was  all  he  gave  interest  to,  and  that 
of  the  intellectual  qualities  those  that  had 
beauty  for  him  were  the  crueller  ones,  — 
force,  concentration,  sagacity,  in  the  ser- 
vice of  egotism.  But  here  are  a  few  of  the 
possible  exceptions.  "Moliere,"  he  says, 
in  a  dispute  about  that  writer's  morality, 
"painted  with  more  depth  than  the  other 
poets.  Therefore  he  is  more  moral.  Noth- 
ing could  be  more  simple."  With  this 
epigram  he  leaves  the  subject ;  but  it  is 
tolerably  clear  that  he  means  to  deny  any 
other  moral  than  truth,  not  to  say  that  the 
truth  is  an  inevitable  servant  of  good.  If 
it  did  mean  the  latter,  it  was  thrown  off  at 
the  moment  as  an  easy  argument;  for  his 
belief  is  pronounced  through  his  works, 
that  his  loves  are  the  world's  banes,  and 
that  any  interest  in  the  world's  good,  in 
the  moral  law,  is  bourgeois  and  dull.  Here 
is  another  phrase  that  perhaps  might  suggest 
that  the  generalization  was  unsafe :  "  He  is 
the  greatest  man  in  Europe  because  he  is 
83 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

the  only  honest  man."     This,  like  the  other, 
is  clear  enough  to  a  reader  of  him;  and  it 
is  really  impossible  to  find  in  him  any  iden- 
tification of  the  interesting,  the  worthy,  with 
the  permanently  and  generally  serviceable. 
Where  the  social  point  of  view  is  taken  for 
a  moment,  it  is  by  grace  of  logic  purely,  for 
a    formal    fairness.     A    more    unmitigated 
moral  rebel,  a  more  absolute  sceptic,  a  more 
thoroughly    isolated     individual     than     the 
author  of  "  Le  Rouge  et  le  Noir  "  could  not 
exist.     Nor  could  a  more  unhesitating  dog- 
matist exist,  despite  his  sneering  apologies ; 
for  dogmatism  is  as  natural  an  expression  of 
absolute  scepticism  as  it  is  of  absolute  faith. 
When  a  man  refuses  to  say  anything  further 
than,  "This  is  true  for  me,  at  this  moment," 
or  perhaps,  "This  is  true  of  a  man  exactly 
such  as   I    describe,    in    exactly    these   cir- 
cumstances,"   he   is    likely  to   make    these 
statements  with  unshakable  firmness.     This 
distinctness    and    coherence    of    the    mind 
which  is   entirely  devoted   to   relativity,   is 
one  of  the  charms  of  Stendhal  for  his  lovers. 
It  makes  possible  the  completeness  and  the 
originality   of    a  perfect    individual,    of  an 
entirely  unrestrained  growth.     It  is  the  kind 
of    character    that    we    call    capricious    or 
fantastic  when  it  is  weak;    but  when  it  is 
84 


STENDHAL 

strong,  it  has  a  value  for  us  through  its 
emphasis  of  interesting  principles  which 
we  do  not  find  so  visible  and  disentangled 
in  more  conforming  people.  The  instincts 
which  in  Stendhal  have  such  a  free  field  to 
expatiate  seem  to  some  readers  rare  and 
distinguished,  and  to  these  readers  it  is  a 
delight  to  see  them  set  in  such  high  relief. 
This,  in  its  most  general  aspect,  is  what 
gave  him  his  short-lived  glory  among  the 
young  writers  of  France.  They  hailed  him 
as  the  discoverer  of  the  doctrine  of  relativity, 
or  as  the  first  who  applied  it  to  the  particu- 
lar facts  they  wished  to  emphasize  —  the 
environment  and  its  influence  on  the  indi- 
vidual. This  has  been  overworked  by  great 
men  and  little  men  until  we  grow  sad  at  the 
sound  of  the  word;  but  it  was  not  so  in 
Beyle's  time,  and  he  used  the  principle  with 
moderation,  seldom  or  never  forgetting  the 
incalculable  and  inexplicable  accidents  of 
individual  variations.  He  does  not  forget 
either  that  individuals  make  the  environ- 
ment, and  he  is  really  clearer  than  his  suc- 
cessors in  treating  race-traits,  the  climate 
and  the  local  causes,  individual  training, 
and  individual  idiosyncrasies,  as  a  great 
mixed  whole,  in  which  the  safest  course  is 
to  stick  pretty  closely  to  the  study  of  the 
85 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

completed  product.  For  this  reason  Zola 
very  properly  removed  him  from  the  pedes- 
tal on  which  Taine  had  put  him,  for  what  is 
a  solvent  of  all  problems  to  the  school  for 
which  Taine  hoped  to  be  the  prophet  is  in 
Stendhal  but  one  principle,  in  its  place  on 
an  equality  with  others.  Zola's  analysis  of 
this  side  of  Beyle  is  really  masterly;  and  he 
proves  without  difficulty  that  the  only  con- 
nection between  Beyle  and  the  present  nat- 
uralists is  one  of  creed,  not  of  execution  — 
that  Beyle  did  not  apply  the  principle  he 
believed  in.  The  setting  of  his  scenes  is 
not  distinct.  Sometimes  it  is  not  even 
sketched  in;  and  here  Zola  draws  an  illus- 
tration from  a  strong  scene  in  "  Le  Rouge  et 
le  Noir,"  and  shows  how  different  the  setting 
would  have  been  in  his  own  hands.  Beyle  is 
a  logician,  abstract;  Zola  thinks  himself 
concrete,  and  concrete  he  is  —  often  by  main 
force.  This  is  a  sad  failure  to  apply  the 
doctrine  of  relativity  to  one's  self.  Beyle 
errs  sometimes  in  the  same  way,  and  some  of 
his  attempts  at  local  color  are  very  tiresome, 
but  on  the  whole  he  remains  frankly  the 
analyzer,  the  introspective  psychologist,  the 
man  of  distinct  but  disembodied  ideas.  He 
recognized  the  environment  as  he  recognized 
other  things  in  his  fertile  reflections,  but  he 
86 


STENDHAL 

was,  as  a  rule,  too  faithful  to  his  own  prin- 
ciples to  spend  much  time  in  trying  to  repro- 
duce it  in  details  which  did  not  directly 
interest  him.  It  was  therefore  natural  that 
his  celebration  by  the  extremists  should  be 
short-lived.  Most  of  them  do  him  what 
justice  they  can  with  effort,  like  Zola,  or 
pass  him  over  with  some  such  word  as  the 
"  dry  "  of  Goncourt.  His  fads  were  his  own. 
None  of  them  have  yet  become  the  fads 
of  a  school,  though  some  principles  that 
were  restrained  with  him  have  become 
battle-cries  in  later  times.  His  real  fads 
are  hardly  fitted  to  be  banners,  for  they  are 
too  specific.  In  very  general  theories  he 
generally  kept  rather  sane.  His  real  differ- 
ence from  the  school  that  claimed  him  for  a 
father  half  a  century  after  his  death,  is  well 
suggested  in  the  awkward  word  that  Zola  is 
fond  of  throwing  at  him,  "ideologist."  The 
idea,  the  abstract  truth  and  the  intellectual 
form  of  it,  its  clearness,  its  statableness, 
its  cogency  and  consistency,  is  the  final 
interest  with  him.  The  outer  world  is  only 
the  material  for  the  expression  of  ideas,  only 
the  illustrations  of  them,  and  the  ideas  are 
therefore  not  pictorial  or  dramatic,  but 
logical.  The  arts  are  ultimately  the  expres- 
sion of  thought  and  feeling,  and  color  and 
87 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

plastic  form  are  means  only.  You  never 
find  him  complaining,  as  his  friend  Merimee 
did,  that  the  meaning  of  the  plastic  arts 
cannot  be  given  in  words,  because  for  a 
slight  difference  in  shade  or  in  curve  there 
is  no  expression  in  language.  All  that 
Beyle  got  out  of  art  he  could  put  into 
words.  He  made  no  attempt  to  compete 
with  the  painter,  like  the  leading  realists 
of  the  past  half-century.  Other  arts  inter- 
ested him  only  as  far  as  they  formed,  with- 
out straining,  illustrations  for  expression  in 
language  of  the  feelings  they  appeal  to.  It 
was  with  him  in  music  as  it  was  in  painting, 
and  often  his  musical  criticism  is  as  charm- 
ing to  the  unattached  dilettante  as  it  is 
annoying  to  the  technical  critic  who  judges 
it  in  its  own  forms.  Beyle  names  the  sen- 
sation with  precision  always.  His  vocabu- 
lary has  fine  shades  without  weakening 
fluency.  In  choosing  single  words  to  name 
single  sensations  is  his  greatest  power,  and 
it  is  a  power  which  naturally  belongs  to  a 
man  whose  eye  is  inward,  a  power  which  the 
word-painters  of  the  environment  lack. 
Everything  is  expression  for  Beyle,  and 
within  the  limits  of  the  verbally-expressible 
he  steadfastly  remains.  His  truth  is  truth 
to  the  forms  of  thought  as  they  exist  in  the 
88 


STENDHAL 

reason  —  the  clear  eighteenth-century  reason 
—  disembodied   truth. 

"  It  is  necessary  to  have  bones  and  blood  in  the 
human  machine  to  make  it  walk.  But  we  give 
slight  attention  to  these  necessary  conditions  of  life, 
to  fly  to  its  great  end,  its  final  result  —  to  think  and 
to  feel. 

"  That  is  the  history  of  drawing,  of  color,  of  light 
and  shade,  of  all  the  various  parts  of  painting,  com- 
pared to  expression. 

"  Expression  is  the  whole  of  art." 

This  reminds  one  again  of  Merimee's 
statement,  that  Beyle  could  see  in  the 
Moses  nothing  but  the  expression  of  ferocity ; 
and  an  equally  conclusive  assertion  (for  it  is 
in  him  no  confession)  is  made  by  Beyle  in 
reference  to  music,  which  he  says  is  excel- 
lent if  it  gives  him  elevated  thoughts  on  the 
subjects  that  are  occupying  him,  and  if  it 
makes  him  think  of  the  music  itself  it  is 
mediocre.  Thus  Beyle  is  as  far  from  being 
an  artist  as  possible.  He  cares  for  the  forms 
of  the  outer  world,  he  spends  his  life  in 
looking  at  beauty  and  listening  to  it,  but 
only  because  he  knows  that  that  is  the  way 
to  call  up  in  himself  the  ideas,  the  sensa- 
tions, the  emotions  that  he  loves  almost 
with  voluptuousness.  The  basis  of  genius, 
89 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

he  says,  in  speaking  of  Michelangelo,  is 
logic,  and  if  this  is  true  —  as  in  the  sense  in 
which  he  used  it,  it  probably  is  —  Beyle's 
genius  was  mostly  basis. 

Merim6e  says  that  though  Beyle  was  con- 
stantly appealing  to  logic,  he  reached  his 
conclusions  not  by  his  reason  but  by  his 
imagination.  This  is  certainly  making  a 
false  distinction.  Beyle  was  not  a  logician 
in  the  sense  that  he  got  at  conclusions 
indirectly  by  syllogisms.  He  did  not  forget 
his  premises  in  the  interest  of  the  inductive 
process.  What  he  calls  logic  is  an  attitude 
or  quality  of  the  mind,  and  means  really 
abstract  coherence.  Of  what  he  himself  calls 
ideology,  with  as  much  contempt  as  Zola 
could  put  into  the  word,  he  says  that  it  is  a 
science  not  only  tiresome  but  impertinent. 
He  means  any  constructive,  deductive  sys- 
tem of  thought.  He  studied  Kant  and  other 
German  metaphysicians,  and  thought  them 
shallow  —  superior  men  ingeniously  building 
houses  of  cards.  His  feet  seldom  if  ever  got 
off  the  solid  ground  of  observations  into  the 
region  of  formal,  logical  deduction.  "  Facts ! 
facts ! "  he  cried,  and  his  love  of  facts  at  first 
hand  keeps  him  from  some  of  the  defects  of 
the  abstract  mind.  Every  statement  is  inde- 
pendent of  the  preceding  and  the  succeeding 
90 


STENDHAL 

ones,  each  is  examined  by  itself,  each  illus- 
trated by  anecdote,  inexact  enough,  to  be 
sure,  but  clear.  There  is  no  haze  in  his 
thought.  When  Merimee  says  that  it  is 
Beyle's  imagination  and  not  his  logic  that 
decides,  he  is  right,  in  the  sense  that  Beyle 
has  no  middle  terms,  that  his  vision  is  direct, 
that  the  a  priori  process  is  secondary  and 
merely  suggestive  with  him.  "  What  should 
we  logically  expect  to  find  the  case  here?" 
he  will  ask  before  a  new  set  of  facts;  but 
if  his  expectation  and  his  observation  differ, 
he  readjusts  his  principles.  It  is  no  para- 
dox to  call  a  mind  both  abstract  and  empiri- 
cal, introspective  and  scientific;  and  Beyle's 
was  both. 

This  quality  of  logic  without  construc- 
tiveness  shows,  of  course,  in  his  style. 
There  is  lucidity  of  transition,  of  connec- 
tion, of  relation,  among  the  details,  but 
the  parts  are  not  put  together  to  form  an 
artistic  whole.  They  fall  on  to  the  paper 
from  his  mind  direct,  and  the  completed 
book  has  no  other  unity  than  has  the  mind 
of  the  author.  As  he  was  a  strong  admirer 
of  Bacon  and  his  methods,  it  is  safe  enough 
to  say  that  he  would  have  accepted  entirely 
this  statement  about  composition  as  his  own 
creed :  — 

91 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

"  Thirdly,  whereas  I  could  have  digested  these 
rules  into  a  certain  method  or  order,  which,  I  know, 
would  have  been  more  admired,  as  that  which  would 
have  made  every  particular  rule,  through  its  coher- 
ence and  relation  unto  other  rules,  seem  more 
cunning  and  more  deep ;  yet  I  have  avoided  so  to 
do,  because  this  delivering  of  knowledge  in  distinct 
and  disjoined  aphorisms  doth  leave  the  wit  of  man 
more  free  to  turn  and  toss,  and  to  make  use  of  that 
which  is  so  delivered  to  more  several  purposes  and 
applications." 

He  is  the  typical  suggestive  critic,  form- 
less, uncreative,  general  and  specific,  precise 
and  abstract:  chaotic  to  the  artist,  satisfac- 
tory to  the  psychologist.  It  makes  no  differ- 
ence where  the  story  begins,  whether  this 
sentence  follows  that,  or  where  the  chapter 
ends.  There  are  no  rules  of  time  and  place. 
His  style  is  a  series  of  epigrams,  and  the 
order^of  their  presentation  is  almost  acci- 
dental. "To  draw  out  a  plot  freezes  me," 
he  says,  and  one  could  guess  it  from  his 
stories,  which  are  in  all  essentials  like  his 
essays.  To  this  analytic,  unplastic  mind 
the  plot,  the  characters,  are  but  illustrations 
of  the  general  truths.  The  characters  he 
draws  have  separate  individual  life  only  so 
far  as  they  are  copies.  There  is  no  in- 
vention, no  construction,  no  creation.  More- 
92 


STENDHAL 

over,  there  is  no  style,  or  no  other  quality  of 
style  than  lucidity.  He  not  only  lacks  other 
qualities,  he  despises  them.  The  "neatly 
turned"  style  and  the  rhetorical  alike  have 
his  contempt.  Most  rhetoricians  are  "em- 
phatic, eloquent,  and  declamatory."  He 
almost  had  a  duel  about  Chateaubriand's 
"cime  indeterminee  des  forets."  Rousseau 
is  particularly  irritating  to  him.  "Only  a 
great  soul  knows  how  to  write  simply,  and 
that  is  why  Rousseau  has  put  so  much  rhet- 
oric into  the  'New  Eloise, '  which  makes  it 
unreadable  after  thirty  years."  In  another 
place  he  says  he  detests,  in  the  arrangement 
of  words,  tragic  combinations,  which  are 
intended  to  give  majesty  to  the  style.  He 
sees  only  absurdity  in  them.  His  style  fits 
his  thought,  and  his  failure  to  comprehend 
color  in  style  is  not  surprising  in  a  man 
whose  thought  has  no  setting,  in  a  man  who 
remarks  with  scorn  that  it  is  easier  to  de- 
scribe clothing  than  it  is  to  describe  move- 
ments of  the  soul.  He  cares  only  for 
movements  of  the  soul.  The  sense  of  form 
might  have  given  his  work  a  larger  life,  but 
it  is  part  of  his  rare  value  for  a  few  that  he 
talks  in  bald  statements,  single-word  sugges- 
tions, disconnected  flashes.  This  intellec- 
tual impressionism,  as  it  were,  is  more 
93 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

stimulating  to  them  than  any  work  of  art. 
These  are  not  poetic  souls,  it  is  needless  to 
say,  however  much  they  may  love  poetry. 
Beyle  is  the  essence  of  prose,  and  it  is  his 
strength.  He  loved  poetry,  but  he  got  from 
it  only  the  prose,  so  much  of  the  idea  as  is 
independent  of  the  form.  Merimee  tells  us 
that  Beyle  murdered  verse  in  reading  aloud, 
and  in  his  treatise  "De  1' Amour"  Beyle  in- 
forms us  that  verse  was  invented  to  help  the 
memory,  and  to  retain  it  in  dramatic  art  is  a 
remnant  of  barbarity.  The  elevation,  the 
abandon,  the  passion  of  poetry  —  all  but  the 
psychology  —  were  foreign  to  this  mind, 
whose  unimaginative  prose  is  its  distinction. 
Perhaps  this  limitation  is  kin  to  another : 
that  as  novelist  Beyle  painted  with  success 
only  himself.  Much  the  solidest  of  his 
characters  is  Julien  Sorel,  a  copy  trait  for 
trait  of  the  author,  reduced,  so  to  speak,  to 
his  essential  elements.  Both  Julien  and 
Beyle  were  men  of  restless  ambition,  clear, 
colorless  minds,  and  constant  activity. 
Julien  turned  this  activity  to  one  thing, 
the  study  of  the  art  of  dominating  women, 
and  Beyle  to  three,  of  which  this  was  the 
principal,  and  the  other  two  were  the  com- 
prehension of  art  principles  and  the  expres- 
sion of  them.  In  his  earlier  days  he  had 
94 


STENDHAL 

followed  the  army  of  Napoleon,  until  he 
became  disgusted  with  the  grossness  of  the 
life  he  saw.  What  renown  he  won  in  the 
army  was  for  making  his  toilet  with  com- 
plete care  on  the  eve  of  battle.  From  the 
Moscow  army  he  wrote  to  one  of  his  friends 
that  everything  was  lacking  which  he 
needed, — "friendship,  love  (or  the  sem- 
blance of  it),  and  the  arts."  For  simplicity, 
friendship  may  be  left  out  in  summing  up 
Beyle's  interests,  for  while  his  friendships 
were  genuine  they  did  not  interest  him  much, 
except  as  an  opportunity  to  work  up  his 
ideas.  Of  the  two  interests  that  remain,  the 
one  expressed  in  Julien,  the  psychology  of 
love,  illustrated  by  practice,  is  much  the 
more  essential.  Julien  too  had  Napoleon 
for  an  ideal,  and  when  he  found  he  could 
not  imitate  him  in  the  letter  he  resigned 
himself  to  making  in  his  spirit  the  conquests 
that  were  open  to  him.  The  genius  that 
Napoleon  put  into  political  relations  he 
would  put  into  social  ones.  All  the  princi- 
ples of  war  should  live  again  in  his  intrigues 
with  women. 

This  spirit  is  well  enough   known  in  its 
outlines.       Perhaps  the  most  perfect  sketch 
of  it  in  its  unmixed  form  is  in  "  Les  Liai- 
sons Dangereuses,"  a  book  which  Beyle  knew 
95 


LITERARY  STATESMEN 

and  must  have  loved.  He  must  have  ad- 
mired and  envied  the  Comte  de  Valmont 
and  the  Marquise  de  Merteuil.  There  is 
here  none  of  the  grossness  of  the  Restoration 
comedy  in  England.  It  is  the  art  of  satisfy- 
ing vanity  in  a  particular  way,  in  its  most 
delicate  form.  It  is  an  occupation  and  an 
art  as  imperative,  one  might  almost  say  as 
impersonal,  were  not  the  paradox  so  violent, 
as  any  other.  What  makes  Stendhal's 
account  of  this  art  differ  from  that  of  Dela- 
clos  and  the  other  masters  is  the  fact  that, 
deeply  as  he  is  in  it,  he  is  half  outside  of  it : 
he  is  the  psychologist  every  moment,  seeing 
his  own  attitude  as  coldly  as  he  sees  the 
facts  on  which  he  is  forming  his  campaign. 
Read  the  scene,  for  instance,  where  Julien 
first  takes  the  hand  of  the  object  of  his  de- 
signs, absolutely  as  a  matter  of  duty,  a  disa- 
greeable move  necessary  to  the  success  of 
the  game.  The  cold,  forced  spirit  of  so 
much  of  intrigue  is  clearly  seen  by  Beyle 
and  accepted  by  him  as  a  necessity.  He 
used  to  tell  young  men  that  if  they  were 
alone  in  a  room  five  minutes  with  a  beautiful 
woman  without  declaring  they  loved  her,  it 
proved  them  poltroons.  Two  sides  of  him, 
however,  are  always  present ;  for  this  is  the 
same  man  who  repeats  forever  in  his  book 
96 


STENDHAL 

the  cry  that  there  is  no  love  in  France.  He 
means  that  this  science,  better  than  no  love 
at  all,  is  inferior  to  the  abandon  of  the  Ital- 
ians. The  love  of  1770,  for  which  he  often 
longs,  with  its  gayety,  its  tact,  its  discretion 
"with  the  thousand  qualities  of  savoir-vivre" 
is  after  all  only  second.  Amour-gout,  to 
point  out  the  distinction  in  two  famous 
phrases  of  his  own,  is  forever  inferior  to 
amoiir-passion.  Stendhal,  admiring  the  lat- 
ter, must  have  been  confined  to  the  former, 
though  not  in  its  baldest  form,  for  to  some 
of  the  skill  and  irony  of  Valmont  he  added 
the  softness,  the  sensibility,  of  a  later  gen- 
eration, and  he  added  also  the  will  to  feel,  so 
that  his  study  of  feeling  and  his  practice  of 
it  grew  more  successful  together.  Psychol- 
ogy and  sensibility  are  mutual  aids  in  him, 
as  they  not  infrequently  are  in  "  observers  of 
the  human  heart,"  to  quote  his  description 
of  his  profession.  "  What  consideration  can 
take  precedence,  in  a  sombre  heart,  of  the 
never-flagging  charm  of  being  loved  by  a 
woman  who  is  happy  and  gay  ?  "  The  volup- 
tuary almost  succeeds  in  looking  as  genuine 
as  the  psychologist.  "This  nervous  fluid, 
so  to  speak,  has  each  day  but  a  certain 
amount  of  sensitiveness  to  expend.  If  you 
put  it  into  the  enjoyment  of  thirty  beautiful 
7  97 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

pictures  you  shall  not  use  it  to  mourn  the 
death  of  an  adored  mistress."  You  cannot 
disentangle  them.  Love,  voluptuousness, 
art,  psychology,  sincerity,  effort,  all  are 
mixed  up  together,  whatever  the  ostensible 
subject.  It  is  a  truly  French  compound, 
perhaps  made  none  the  less  essentially 
French  by  the  author's  constant  berating  of 
his  country  for  its  consciousness  and  vanity: 
a  man  who  would  be  uneasy  if  he  were  not 
exercising  his  fascinating  powers  on  some 
woman,  and  a  man  whose  tears  were  ready ; 
a  man  who  could  not  live  without  action, 
soaking  in  the  do  Ice  far  niente;  a  man  all 
intelligence,  and  by  very  force  of  intelli- 
gence a  man  of  emotion.  He  would  be 
miserable  if  he  gave  himself  up  to  either 
side.  "  In  the  things  of  sentiment  perhaps 
the  most  delicate  judges  are  found  at  Paris 
—  but  there  is  always  a  little  chill."  He 
goes  to  Italy ;  and  as  he  voluptuously  feels 
the  warm  air  and  sees  the  warm  blood  and 
the  free  movements,  the  simplicity  of  heed- 
lessness  and  passion,  his  mind  goes  back 
longingly  to  the  other  things. 

"  All  is  decadence  here,  all  in  memory.    Active 
life  is  in  London  and  in  Paris.     The  days  when  I 
am  all  sympathy  I  prefer  Rome ;  but  staying  here 
98 


STENDHAL 

tends  to  weaken  the  mind,  to  plunge  it  into  stupor. 
There  is  no  effort,  no  energy,  nothing  moves  fast. 
Upon  my  word,  I  prefer  the  active  life  of  the  North 
and  the  bad  taste  of  our  barracks." 

But  among  these  conflicting  ideals  it  is 
possible  perhaps  to  pick  the  strongest,  and  I 
think  it  is  painted  in  this  picture:  "A 
delicious  salon,  within  ten  steps  of  the  sea, 
from  which  we  are  separated  by  a  grove  of 
orange-trees.  The  sea  breads  gently,  Ischia 
is  in  sight.  The  ices  are  excellent."  The 
last  touch  is  all  Beyle.  What  is  more  subtle 
to  a  man  whose  whole  life  is  an  experiment 
in  taste,  what  more  suggestive,  what  more 
typical,  than  an  ice?  There  is  a  pervading 
delight  in  it,  in  the  unsubstantiality,  the 
provokingness,  the  refinement  of  it.  "In 
the  boxes,  toward  the  middle  of  the  evening, 
the  cavaliere  servante  of  the  lady  usually 
orders  some  ices.  There  is  always  some 
wager,  and  the  ordinary  bets  are  sherbets, 
which  are  divine.  There  are  three  kinds, 
gclati,  crept,  and  pezzidiere.  It  is  an  excel- 
lent thing  to  become  familiar  with.  I  have 
not  yet  determined  the  best  kind,  and  I 
experiment  every  evening."  Do  not  mistake 
this  for  playfulness.  The  man  who  cannot 
take  an  ice  seriously  cannot  take  Stendhal 
sympathetically. 

99 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

Such,  in  the  rough,  is  the  point  of  view 
of  this  critic  of  character  and  of  art.  Of 
course  the  value  of  judgments  from  such  a 
man  in  such  an  attitude  is  dependent  entirely 
on  what  one  seeks  from  criticism.  Here  is 
what  Stendhal  hopes  to  give:  — 

"  My  end  is  to  make  each  observer  question  his 
own  soul,  disentangle  his  own  manner  of  feeling, 
and  thus  succeed  in  forming  a  judgment  for  him- 
self, a  way  of  seeing  formed  in  accord  with  his  own 
character,  his  tastes,  his  ruling  passions,  if  indeed 
he  have  passions,  for  unhappily  they  are  necessary 
to  judge  the  arts." 

The  word  "passion,"  here  as  elsewhere, 
is  not  to  be  given  too  violent  a  meaning. 
"  Emotion "  would  do  as  well  —  sincere 
personal  feeling.  That  there  is  no  end 
of  art  except  to  bring  out  this  sincere 
individual  feeling  is  his  ultimate  belief. 
He  is  fond  of  the  story  of  the  young  girl  who 
asked  Voltaire  to  hear  her  recite,  so  as  to 
judge  of  her  fitness  for  the  stage.  Aston- 
ished at  her  coldness,  Voltaire  said:  "But, 
mademoiselle,  if  you  yourself  had  a  lover 
who  abandoned  you,  what  would  you  do  ?  " 
"  I  would  take  another, "  she  answered. 
That,  Stendhal  adds,  is  the  correct  point 
of  view  for  nineteen-twentieths  of  life,  but 
100 


STENDHAL 

not  for  art.  "I  care  only  for  genius,  for 
young  painters  with  fire  in  the  soul  and 
open  intelligence."  For  disinterested,  cool 
taste,  for  objective  justness  and  precision, 
he  has  only  contempt.  Indeed,  he  accepts 
Goethe's  definition  of  taste  as  the  art  of 
properly  tying  one's  cravats  in  things  of  the 
mind.  Everything  that  is  not  special  to  the 
speaker,  personal,  he  identifies  with  thinness, 
insincerity,  pose.  "  The  best  thing  one  can 
bring  before  works  of  art,  is  a  natural  mind. 
One  must  dare  to  feel  what  he  does  feel." 
To  be  one's  self,  the  first  of  rules,  means  to 
follow  one's  primitive  sentiments.  "In- 
stead of  wishing  to  judge  according  to  liter- 
ary principles,  and  defend  correct  doctrines, 
why  do  not  our  youths  content  themselves 
with  the  fairest  privilege  of  their  age,  to 
have  sentiments  ?  "  There  is  no  division 
into  impersonal  judgment  and  private  senti- 
ment. The  only  criticism  that  has  value  is 
private,  personal,  intimate. 

Less  special  to  Stendhal  now,  though 
rare  at  the  time  in  which  he  lived,  is  the 
appeal  to  life  as  the  basis  of  art.  "To  find 
the  Greeks,  look  in  the  forests  of  America. " 
Go  to  the  swimming-school  or  the  ballet  to 
realize  the  correctness  and  the  energy  of 
Michelangelo.  Familiarity  is  everything. 

101 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

"  The  work  of  genius  is  the  sense  of  conver- 
sation," and  as  "the  man  who  takes  the  word 
of  another  is  a  cruel  bore  in  a  salon,"  so  is 
he  as  a  critic.  "What  is  the  antique  bas- 
relief  to  me?  Let  us  try  to  make  good 
modern  painting.  The  Greeks  loved  the 
nude.  We  never  see  it,  and  moreover  it 
repels  us."  This  conclusion  shows  the 
weakness,  or  the  limitation,  of  this  kind  of 
criticism,  which  as  Stendhal  applies  it 
would  keep  us  from  all  we  have  learned 
from  the  revived  study  of  the  nude,  because 
the  first  impression  to  one  unused  to  seeing 
it  is  not  an  artistic  one.  But  the  limitations 
of  Stendhal  and  his  world  are  obvious  enough. 
It  is  his  eloquence  and  usefulness  within  his 
limits  that  are  worth  examination. 

"Beauty,"  to  Stendhal,  "is  simply  a 
promise  of  happiness,"  and  the  phrase  sums 
up  his  attitude.  Here  is  his  ideal  way  of 
taking  music.  He  asked  a  question  of  a 
young  woman  about  somebody  in  the  audi- 
ence. The  young  woman  usually  says  noth- 
ing during  the  evening.  To  his  question 
she  answered,  "  Music  pleases  when  it  puts 
your  soul  in  the  evening  in  the  same  posi- 
tion that  love  put  it  in  during  the  day." 

Beyle  adds:  "Such  is  the  simplicity  of 
language  and  of  action.  I  did  not  answer, 
1 02 


STENDHAL 

and  I  left  her.  When  one  feels  music  in 
such  a  way,  what  friend  is  not  importunate  ?  " 
When  he  leaves  this  field  for  technical  judg- 
ments, he  is  laughable  to  any  one  who  does 
not  care  for  the  texture  of  his  mind,  what- 
ever his  expression;  for  music  to  him  is 
really  only  a  background  for  his  sensibil- 
ity. "How  can  I  talk  of  music  without 
giving  the  history  of  my  sensations?  "  This 
is,  doubtless,  maudlin  to  the  sturdy  mascu- 
line mind,  this  religion  of  sensibility,  this 
fondling  of  one's  sentimental  susceptibili- 
ties, and  it  certainly  has  no  grandeur  and 
no  morality. 

"  Sensibility,"  Coleridge  says,  "  that  is,  a  consti- 
tutional quickness  of  sympathy  with  pain  and 
pleasure,  and  a  keen  sense  of  the  gratifications  that 
accompany  social  intercourse,  mutual  endearments, 
and  reciprocal  preferences  .  .  .  sensibility  is  not 
even  a  sure  pledge  of  a  good  heart,  though  among 
the  most  common  meanings  of  that  many-meaning 
and  too  commonly  misapplied  expression." 

It  leads,  he  goes  on,  to  effeminate  sensi- 
tiveness by  making  us  alive  to  trifling  mis- 
fortunes. This  is  just,  with  all  its  severity, 
and  the  lover  of  Stendhal  has  only  to  smile, 
and  quote  Rousseau,  with  Beyle  himself: 
"I  must  admit  that  I  am  a  great  booby;  for 
I  get  all  my  pleasure  in  being  sad." 
103 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

Naturally  enough,  ennui  plays  a  great 
part  in  such  a  nature,  thin,  intelligent,  sen- 
sitive, immoral,  self-indulgent.  It  lies  be- 
hind his  art  of  love  and  his  love  of  art. 
"Ennui,  this  great  motive  power  of  intelli- 
gent people,"  he  says;  and  again:  "I  was 
much  surprised  when,  studying  painting  out 
of  pure  ennui,  I  found  it  a  balm  for  cruel 
sorrows."  He  really  loves  it.  "Ennui! 
the  god  whom  I  implore,  the  powerful  god 
who  reigns  in  the  hall  of  the  Fran$ais,  the 
only  power  in  the  world  that  can  cause  the 
Laharpes  to  be  thrown  into  the  fire. "  Hence 
his  love  for  Madame  du  Deffand,  the  great 
expert  in  ennui,  and  for  the  whole  century 
of  ennui,  wit,  and  immorality.  Certainly 
the  lack  of  all  fire  and  enthusiasm,  the  lack 
of  faith,  of  hope,  of  charity,  does  go  often 
with  a  clear,  sharp,  negative  freshness  of 
judgment,  which  is  often  seen  in  the  colder, 
finer,  smaller  workmen  in  the  psychology 
of  social  relations.  It  is  a  great  exposer 
of  pretence.  It  enables  Stendhal  to  see 
that  most  honest  Northerners  say  in  their 
hearts  before  the  statues  of  Michelangelo, 
"  Is  that  all  ? "  as  they  say  before  their  ac- 
complished ideal,  "  Good  Lord !  to  be  happy, 
to  be  loved,  is  it  only  this  ? " 

But  just  as  Stendhal  keeps  in  the  border- 
104 


STENDHAL 

land  between  vice  and  virtue,  shrinking 
from  grossness,  and  laughing  at  morality, 
so  he  cannot  really  cross  into  the  deepest 
unhappiness  any  more  than  he  could  into 
passionate  happiness.  Tragedy  repelled  him. 
"The  fine  arts  ought  never  to  try  to  paint 
the  inevitable  ills  of  humanity.  They  only 
increase  them,  which  is  a  sad  success. 
.  .  .  Noble  and  almost  consoled  grief  is  the 
only  kind  that  art  should  seek  to  produce." 
To  these  half-tones  his  range  is  limited 
through  the  whole  of  his  being.  Of  his 
taste  in  architecture,  of  which  he  was  tech- 
nically as  ignorant  as  he  was  of  music, 
Merimee  tells  us  that  he  disliked  Gothic, 
thinking  it  ugly  and  sad,  and  liked  the 
architecture  of  the  Renaissance  for  its  ele- 
gance and  coquetry;  that  it  was  always 
graceful  details,  moreover,  and  not  the  gen- 
eral plan  that  attracted  him;  which  is  a 
limitation  that  naturally  goes  with  the  other. 
Of  course  the  charm  and  the  short-comings 
that  are  everywhere  in  Beyle's  art  criticism 
are  the  same  in  his  judgments  of  national 
traits,  which  form  a  large  part  of  his  work. 
Antipathy  to  the  French  is  one  of  his  fixed 
ideas,  thorough  Frenchman  that  he  was; 
for  his  own  vanity  and  distrust  did  not 
make  him  hate  the  less  genuinely  those 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

weaknesses.  Vanity  is  bourgeois,  he  thinks, 
and  there  is  for  him  no  more  terrible  word. 
It  spoils  the  best  things,  too  —  conversation 
among  others;  for  the  French  conversation 
is  work. 

"  The  most  tiresome  defect  in  our  present 
civilization  is  the  desire  to  produce  effect." 
So  with  their  bravery,  their  love,  all  is  cal- 
culated, there  is  no  abandonment.  This 
annoys  him  particularly  in  the  women,  who 
are  always  the  most  important  element  to 
him.  He  gives  them  their  due,  but  coldly: 
"  France,  however,  is  always  the  country 
where  there  are  always  the  most  passable 
women.  They  seduce  by  delicate  pleasures 
made  possible  by  their  mode  of  dress,  and 
these  pleasures  can  be  appreciated  by  the 
most  passionless  natures.  Dry  natures  are 
afraid  of  Italian  beauty."  Of  course  this 
continual  flinging  at  the  French  is  only 
partly  vanity,  self-glorification  in  being 
able,  almost  alone  of  foreigners,  to  appre- 
ciate the  Italians.  It  is  partly  contempt  for 
his  leading  power,  for  mere  intelligence. 
In  his  youth  he  spoke  with  half-regret  of 
his  being  so  reasonable  that  he  would  go  to 
bed  to  save  his  health  even  when  his  head 
was  crowded  with  ideas  that  he  wanted  to 
write.  It  was  his  desperate  desire  to  be  as 
1 06 


STENDHAL 

Italian  as  he  could,  rather  than  any  serene 
belief  that  he  had  thrown  off  much  of  his 
French  nature,  that  made  him  leave  orders 
to  have  inscribed  on  his  tombstone :  — 

Qui  Giace 

Arrigo  Beyle  Milanese 
Visse,  scrisse,  am6. 

It  comes  dangerously  near  to  a  pose,  perhaps, 
and  yet  there  is  genuineness  enough  in  it  to 
make  it  pathetic.  He  praises  the  Italians 
because  they  do  not  judge  their  happiness. 
He  never  ceased  to  judge  his.  Nowhere 
outside  of  Italy,  he  thinks,  can  one  hear 
with  a  certain  accent,  "  O  Dio !  com'  e 
bello !  "  But  the  implication  is  quite  unfair. 
I  have  heard  a  common  Frenchwoman  ex- 
claim, under  her  breath,  before  an  ugly 
peacock,  "Dieu!  comme  c'est  beau,"  with 
an  intensity  that  was  not  less  because  it 
was  restrained.  But  restraint  was  Beyle's 
bugbear.  From  his  own  economical,  calcu- 
lating nature  he  flew  almost  with  worship  to 
its  opposite.  He  is  speaking  of  Julien  and 
therefore  of  himself,  when  he  says,  in  "Le 
Rouge  et  le  Noir:"  "Intellectual  love  has 
doubtless  more  cleverness  than  true  love,  but 
it  has  only  moments  of  enthusiasm.  It 
knows  itself  too  well.  It  judges  itself 
107 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

unceasingly.  Far  from  driving  away  thought, 
it  exists  only  by  force  of  thought."  He  calls 
Julien  mediocre,  and  he  says  of  him,  "This 
dry  soul  felt  all  of  passion  that  is  possible 
in  a  person  raised  in  the  midst  of  this  ex- 
cessive civilization  which  Paris  admires." 
Beyle  saves  Julien  from  contempt  at  the  end 
(and  doubtless  he  consoled  himself  with 
something  similar)  by  causing  him,  while 
remaining  a  conscious  hypocrite,  to  lose  his 
life  unhesitatingly,  absurdly,  perversely,  for 
the  sake  of  love.  Once  he  has  shown  him- 
self capable  of  the  divine  unreason,  of  exal- 
tation, he  is  respectable.  Where  the  enthu- 
siasm is  he  is  blinded;  he  cannot  see  the 
crudity  and  stupidity  of  passion.  Before 
this  mad  enthusiasm  the  French  fineness 
and  proportion  is  insignificant.  He  loses 
his  memory  of  the  charm  he  has  told  so 
well.  "Elsewhere  there  is  no  conception 
of  this  art  of  giving  birth  to  the  laugh  of  the 
mind,  and  of  giving  delicious  joys  by  unex- 
pected words." 

As  might  be  expected,  Beyle  is  even  more 
unfair  to  the  Germans  than  he  is  to  his 
countrymen ;  for  the  sentiment  of  which  he 
is  the  epicure  and  the  apologist,  has  nothing 
in  common  with  the  reverent  and  poetic 
sentiment  in  which  the  Germans  are  so  rich. 
1 08 


STENDHAL 

This  last  Beyle  hates  as  he  hates  Rousseau 
and  Madame  de  Stael.  It  is  phrase,  moon- 
shine, and  the  fact  that  it  is  bound  up  in  a 
stable  and  orderly  character  but  makes  it 
the  more  irritating.  They  are  sentimental, 
innocent,  and  unintelligent,  he  says,  and  he 
quotes  with  a  sneer,  as  true  of  the  race,  "  A 
soul  honest,  sweet,  and  peaceful,  free  of 
pride  and  remorse,  full  of  benevolence  and 
humanity,  above  the  nerves  and  the  pas- 
sions." In  short,  quite  anti-Beylian,  quite 
submissive,  sweet,  and  moral.  For  England 
he  has  much  more  respect,  and  even  a  slight 
affection.  He  likes  their  anti-classicism, 
and  he  likes  especially  the  beauty  of  their 
women,  which  he  thinks  second  only  to  that 
of  the  Italians.  The  rich  complexions,  the 
free,  open  countenances,  the  strong  forms 
rouse  him  sometimes  almost  to  enthusiasm ; 
but  of  course  it  is  all  secondary  in  the  inevi- 
table comparison.  "  English  beauty  seems 
paltry,  without  soul,  without  life,  before 
the  divine  eyes  which  heaven  has  given  to 
Italy."  The  somewhat  in  the  submissive 
faces  of  the  Englishwomen  that  threatens 
future  ennui,  Stendhal  thinks  has  been 
ingrained  there  by  the  workings  of  the  ter- 
rible law  of  propriety  which  rules  as  a  despot 
over  the  unfortunate  island.  It  is  the  vision 
109 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

of  caprice  in  the  face  of  the  Italian  woman 
that  makes  him  certain  of  never  being  bored. 
It  is  not  surprising  that  women  should  be 
the  objects  through  which  Beyle  sees  every- 
thing. A  man  who  sees  in  relativity,  arbi- 
trariness, caprice,  the  final  law  of  nature, 
and  who  feels  a  sympathy  with  this  law,  not 
unnaturally  finds  in  the  absolute,  personal, 
perverse  nature  of  women  his  most  congenial 
companionship.  He  finds  in  women  some- 
thing more  elemental  than  reasonableness. 
He  finds  the  basal  instincts.  They  best 
illustrate  his  psychology  of  final,  absolute 
choice.  Of  course  there  is  the  other  side 
too,  the  epicure's  point  of  view,  from  which 
their  charm  is  the  centre  of  the  paradise  of 
leisure,  music,  and  ices.  His  hyperbole  in 
praising  art  is  "equal  to  the  first  hand- 
shake of  the  woman  one  loves."  In  politics 
he  sees  largely  the  relations  of  sex ;  and  in 
national  character  it  is  almost  always  of  the 
women  he  is  talking.  Their  influence  marks 
the  advance  of  civilization.  "Tenderness 
has  made  progress  among  us  because  society 
has  become  more  perfect,"  and  tenderness 
here  is  this  soft  or,  if  you  choose,  effeminate, 
sensibility. 

"The  admission  of  women  to  perfect  equality 
would  be  the  surest  sign  of  civilization.     It  would 
no 


STENDHAL 

double  the  intellectual  forces  of  the  human  race 
and  its  probabilities  of  happiness.  ...  To  attain 
equality,  the  source  of  happiness  for  both  sexes,  the 
duel  would  have  to  be  opeu  to  women  ;  the  pistol 
demands  only  address.  Any  woman,  by  subjecting 
herself  to  imprisonment  for  two  years,  would  be  able, 
at  the  expiration  of  the  term,  to  get  a  divorce. 
Towards  the  year  Two  Thousand  these  ideas  will 
be  no  longer  ridiculous." 

In  this  passage  is  the  whole  man,  intelli- 
gent and  fantastic,  sincere  and  suspicious, 
fresh,  convincing,  absurd.  He  is  rapidly 
settling  back  into  obscurity,  to  which  he  is 
condemned  as  much  by  the  substance  of  his 
thought  as  by  the  formlessness  of  its  expres- 
sion. Entirely  a  rebel,  and  only  slightly 
a  revolutionist,  he  is  treated  by  the  world 
as  he  treated  it.  A  lover  of  many  interest- 
ing things  inextricably  wound  up  together, 
his  earnest  talk  about  them  will  perhaps  for 
some  time  longer  be  an  important  influence 
on  the  lives  of  a  few  whose  minds  shall  be 
of  the  kind  to  which  a  sharp,  industrious, 
capricious,  and  rebellious  individual  is  the 
best  stimulant  to  their  own  thought. 
1894. 


in 


MERIMEE   AS   A   CRITIC 


V 

MERIM£E  AS  A  CRITIC 

PROSPER  MERIMEE,  perhaps  the  most  skilful 
of  French  short  story-tellers,  has  talked  of 
his  art  preferences  in  essays  little  inferior 
in  execution  to  his  tales,  and  revealed  in 
them  the  most  attractive  side  of  his  own 
nature,  and  yet  most  of  them  lie  hidden  in 
the  files  of  "Le  Constitutionel,"  "Le 
Temps,"  "  Les  Debats,"  and  "  La  Revue  des 
Deux  Mondes."  Indeed,  the  powers  which 
charm  the  lover  of  deftness  in  literature 
sometimes  appear  even  more  distinctly  when 
he  is  speaking  his  critical  opinion  than  they 
do  when  he  is  telling  a  story.  For  this  reason 
the  essays  are  almost  unique  in  form.  It 
would  be  hard  to  find  another  example  of  an 
art  of  this  kind,  —  the  kind  that  has  gone 
into  the  best  short  fiction,  the  art  in  which 
the  execution  is  the  most  prominent  merit, 
the  perfectly  chiselled  miniature,  shown  in 
miscellaneous  critical  essays.  Why,  then, 
does  no  one  study  his  criticism  ? 
"5 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

We  know  his  irony  in  his  stories.  When, 
after  the  death  of  Carmen,  the  reader  comes 
suddenly  to  a  comment  on  certain  gypsy 
words,  he  feels  it.  He  feels  it  at  the  death 
of  Arsene,  surrounded  by  the  doctor,  her 
lover,  and  the  great  lady  who  with  her  piety 
has  deprived  the  dying  peasant  of  her  lover, 
and  is  herself  in  danger  of  falling,  with  all 
her  virtue,  a  prey  to  the  same  man.  He 
feels  it  as,  after  this  scene,  he  reads  this  last 
chapter;  with  the  epitaph  written  by  the 
woman  of  prayer  over  the  grave  of  the  girl 
who  had  known  only  one  love,  and  had  had 
that  taken  from  her  as  immoral  by  the  vir- 
tuous woman  who  appropriated  it. 

"  Well,  madam,  you  tell  me  that  my  story  is  fin- 
ished and  that  you  do  not  care  to  hear  more.  I 
should  think  you  would  be  curious  to  know  whether 
or  not  M.  de  Salligny  made  his  trip  to  Greece ; 
whether  —  but  it  is  late,  and  you  have  had  enough. 
So  be  it.  At  least  avoid  hasty  judgments,  for  I 
protest  that  I  have  said  nothing  to  authorize  them. 
Especially,  do  not  doubt  the  truth  of  my  story. 
Are  you  sceptical  ?  Go  to  Pere  Lachaise  ;  twenty 
feet  to  the  left  of  the  tomb  of  General  Foy,  you 
will  find  a  very  simple  lias  stone,  surrounded  by 
flowers  that  are  always  well  tended.  On  the  stone 
you  can  read  the  name  of  my  heroine  cut  in  large 
letters :  ARSENE  GUILLOT.  And  if  you  bend 
116 


M£RIM£E  AS  A  CRITIC 

over  this  tomb  you  will  see,  if  the  rain  has  not 
already  erased  it,  a  line  written  with  a  lead-pencil, 
in  a  very  fine  hand  : 

"  '  Poor  Arsene  !     She  is  praying  for  us.'  " 

The  charm  of  the  irony  is,  like  the  charm 
of  the  execution,  in  distance,  in  delicacy  of 
suggestion.  In  his  essays,  this  preference 
for  less  obvious  methods  of  suggestion,  the 
dislike  of  the  easy  and  the  explicit,  is  stated. 
"He  found  her piqtiante,  to  use  one  of  those 
expressions  that  I  hate."  And  in  his  essay 
on  Nicholas  Gogol  he  wrote  a  passage  that 
is  at  once  a  good  illustration  of  his  essay 
style,  and  an  open  expression  of  his  im- 
patience with  commonplace  methods  in 
literature:  — 

"  I  think  the  study  well  done  and  graphically 
depicted,  as  M.  Diaforus  would  say,  but  I  don't 
like  the  kind ;  madness  is  one  of  the  misfortunes 
which  move  us,  but  also  disgust.  Doubtless  by 
putting  a  madman  into  his  story  a  writer  is  sure  ot 
making  an  effect.  He  moves  a  cord  always  sensi- 
tive, but  the  means  is  vulgar,  and  the  talent  of  M. 
Gogol  is  not  one  of  those  that  need  to  descend  to 
these  trivialities.  Let  us  leave  madmen  to  begin- 
ners, with  the  dogs,  those  characters  of  an  equally 
irresistible  effect.  What  a  glory  to  wring  tears  from 
your  reader  if  you  break  a  poodle's  leg  !  Homer, 
in  my  opinion,  is  excusable  for  making  us  weep 
117 


LITERARY    STATESMEN 

at  the  mutual  recognition  of  the  dog  Argus  and 
Ulysses  only  because  he  was,  I  believe,  the  first  to 
discover  the  resources  offered  by  the  canine  race  to 
an  author  at  the  end  of  expedients." 

Thus  the  essays  have  the  same  severity 
that  distinguishes  the  art  of  his  stories. 
More  important,  however,  to  the  student  of 
Merimee  is  the  fact  that  they  give  another 
side  of  him,  —  a  side  that  a  careful  reader 
might  guess  from  the  stories,  a  side  that  is 
more  openly  suggested  in  his  letters,  but 
which  even  in  the  letters  shows  itself  only 
timidly  and  indirectly.  It  is  a  rather  sin- 
gular fact  that  straightforward  seriousness 
should  show  itself  clearly  in  the  essays 
alone.  In  them  he  tells  without  sarcasm 
the  principles  of  art  in  which  he  believes. 
He  describes  the  art  that  charms  him  and 
moves  him.  He  talks  of  friendship,  too, 
in  a  tone  that  he  would  shrink  from  using 
in  a  letter.  It  seems  as  if  he  knew  the  pub- 
lic expected  this,  and  would  not  laugh  at  him 
for  it  as  a  friend  might.  The  Me'rime'e  of 
the  letters  and  stories  is  an  artist  of  bril- 
liancy, force,  and  elegance,  but  a  man  who 
is  always  on  the  defensive,  protecting  him- 
self from  ridicule  by  distance.  Timidity  or 
taste  makes  him  avoid  always  a  serious 
tone.  The  Merimee  of  the  essays  is  the 
118 


MERIMEE   AS   A    CRITIC 

skilful  artist  still,  and  he  is  besides  a  man 
of  broad  comprehension  and  sympathy.  It 
would  be  hard  to  find  in  his  letters  or  stories 
as  simple  a  tone  as  the  one  in  these  words 
about  a  story  of  Gogol's : 

"  I  hasten  to  come  to  a  little  masterpiece,  '  An 
Oldtime  Household.'  In  a  few  pages  M.  Gogol 
tells  us  the  lives  of  two  good  old  people,  husband 
and  wife,  living  in  the  country,  persons  in  whose 
heads  there  is  no  grain  of  malice,  deceived  and 
adored  by  their  peasants,  ingeniously  egotistic  be- 
cause they  believe  all  the  world  happy,  as  they  are 
themselves.  The  wife  dies.  The  husband,  who 
had  seemed  to  live  only  to  eat,  fails  and  dies  a  few 
months  after  his  wife.  We  laugh  and  cry  in  reading 
this  charming  tale,  where  the  art  of  the  story-teller 
is  hidden  in  the  simplicity  of  the  story.  All  is  true, 
natural.  There  is  no  detail  which  is  not  charming 
and  a  part  of  the  general  effect." 

In  personal  affection  it  is  the  same.  He 
shrank  from  speaking  seriously  of  affection, 
orally  or  in  letters,  and  yet  there  is  in  his 
essay  on  Victor  Jacquemont  sincere  feeling, 
entirely  undisguised  and  unclothed  in  irony. 
He  dwells  with  fondness  over  some  of  the 
various  traits  of  the  character,  and  when  he 
comes  to  speak  of  his  voice,  he  uses  a  quo- 
tation singularly  warm  for  him :  "  When  I 
119 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

heard  him  speak  I  used   to  think  of  these 
lines  of  Shakespeare :  — 

" '  Oh  !  it  came  on  my  ears  like  the  sweet  South 
That  breathes  upon  a  bank  of  violets.'  " 

An  essay  that  shows  strong  literary  affec- 
tion is  one  on  Madame  du  Deffand  in  "  Le 
Moniteur"  for  April  29,  1867.  Nobody  has 
entered  with  more  accurate  sympathy  into 
the  character  of  the  famous  wit.  Merim^e 
speaks  simply  a  real  love  of  the  woman  and 
of  the  period.  He  does  not  garble  the  facts, 
but  he  is  lenient  because  he  feels  the  elo- 
quence of  Madame  du  Deffand  from  her  own 
point  of  view;  he  feels  her  loyalty  to  her 
first  impressions,  her  frankness,  her  desire 
to  please,  the  simplicity  and  elevation  of 
her  intellectual  tastes.  He  felt,  too,  the 
genuineness  of  her  ephemeral  affections, 
and  he  knew  the  sincerity  in  the  seeming 
frivolity.  It  is  a  passing  book  review,  and 
yet  it  shows  better  than  anything  else  he 
has  written  his  appreciation  of  one  kind  of 
mind. 

Simple  liking  for  certain  things  and  cer- 
tain people  is  not  the  only  trait  of  character 
which  is  seen  clearly  only  in  the  essays. 
Another  trait,  allied  to  it,  is  intellectual 
charity.  In  his  letters,  Merimee's  criti- 

I2O 


MERIMEE   AS   A   CRITIC 

cisms  of  things  he  does  not  like  are  sharp 
and  contemptuous.  That  he  could  speak 
with  more  reserve  in  his  r61e  of  a  profes- 
sional critic  is  shown  in  an  essay  on  the 
English  pre-Raphaelite  art  in  "  La  Revue 
des  Deux  Mondes "  for  October  15,  1857. 
Nothing  could  be  further  from  his  sympathy; 
nothing  could  be  in  sharper  contrast  with 
his  skill  in  economy  and  convergence  of  parts 
than  their  pointless  details;  nothing  more 
different  from  his  restraint  and  fineness  than 
their  efforts  for  literary  symbolism.  Of 
course  he  saw  their  weaknesses,  but  he  also 
saw  their  merits.  The  weaknesses  are 
described,  for  him,  with  little  bitterness  or 
sarcasm.  Here  is  a  description  of  a  picture 
by  Hunt :  — 

"A  young  woman  is  singing  before  an  open 
piano.  She  holds  in  her  hand  a  sheet  of  music. 
Behind  her  is  a  young  man  in  morning  dress,  with 
his  arm  passed  gayly  about  her  waist.  Her  mouth 
is  open ;  probably  she  is  running  a  division ;  but 
she  has  a  frightful  grimace,  and,  moreover,  as  I 
learned  by  putting  on  my  spectacles,  she  has  tears 
in  her  eyes.  Beside  this  group,  in  an  easy-chair,  is 
a  cat  which  shares  the  taste  of  Harlequin,  of  whom 
it  is  well  known  that  he  liked  only  those  serenades 
at  which  there  is  food.  This  cat  has  procured  for 
itself  a  canary,  and  is  in  the  process  of  killing  it. 
121 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

...  I  wished  to  know  why  this  fair  singer  wept 
while  her  companion  was  so  gay.  Unfortunately 
the  title  was  very  laconic,  '  Conscience  Awakened.' 
I  admit  that  I  was  more  puzzled  than  I  had  been 
before  I  had  resorted  to  the  catalogue.  Fortunately 
I  met  an  English  artist,  who  gave  me  the  following 
explanation :  '  You  certainly  see  that  the  two  per- 
sons in  this  picture  are  not  demeaning  themselves 
properly.  Look  at  the  hand  of  the  young  woman. 
.  .  You  will  notice  that  she  has  no  marriage  ring, 
and  is  therefore  unmarried.  The  arm  passed  about 
her  waist  shows  that  she  has  a  lover.  She  is  singing 
one  of  Moore's  melodies,  which  you  ought  to  know 
by  heart,  and  of  which  you  can  easily  read  the  title 
by  standing  on  your  head.  This  title  will  remind 
you  that  in  the  third  couplet  the  unfortunate  woman 
meets  an  allusion  to  her  own  false  position,  and  this 
allusion  chokes  her  in  the  midst  of  the  roulade.  It 
is  then  that  her  conscience  is  awakened,  and  there 
you  have  what  Mr.  Hunt  has  expressed.'  'And  the 
cat  ? '  I  asked.  '  The  cat  is  at  once  an  interesting 
detail  and  a  moral.  It  represents  the  bad  instincts, 
and  the  canary  represents  innocence,  two  well-chosen 
emblems.' " 

Yet  even  in  a  school  so  ridiculous  to  him 
Me'rim^e  finds  good,  and  points  out  the 
various  technical  merits  with  fairness.  Even 
in  Mr.  Ruskin  he  sees  a  use.  He  says  Mr. 
Ruskin  has  a  few  ideas  that  are  sane,  even 
practicable,  and  that  these  ideas  have  been 

122 


MERIMEE   AS   A    CRITIC 

made  more  effective  in  England  by  the  vio- 
lence of  their  expression.  His  general 
impression  of  the  pre-Raphaelites  is  thus 
put :  "  Habits  of  reflection,  a  taste  for 
subtlety,  pretension  to  depth,  mixed  with  a 
great  deal  of  inexperience,"  and,  he  adds 
later,  an  entire  lack  of  comprehension  of 
the  noble  style. 

His  technique  in  the  essays  is  worth  as 
much  study  by  young  critics  as  young  novel- 
ists put  on  his  stories.  It  is  almost  impos- 
sible to  see  the  logic  of  the  arrangement, 
and  quite  impossible  not  to  feel  that  there 
is  logic.  Though  there  is  no  apparent 
synthesis,  the  man  of  whom  he  writes  stands 
out;  the  picture  is  finished,  given  in  a  few 
strokes.  He  is  abrupt,  but  not  incomplete. 
His  bold  unity  is  beyond  analysis.  There 
are  few  introductions,  no  conclusions,  and 
no  obvious  ornament.  His  dislike  of  the 
opposite  method  of  express  transition  and 
setting  he  has  suggested  in  "Charles  IX." 
in  an  imaginary  dialogue  between  the  reader 
and  the  author :  — 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Author,  what  a  fine  chance  you  have 
here  to  draw  portraits  !  And  such  portraits  !  You 
will  take  us  to  the  castle  at  Madrid,  in  the  midst  of 
the  court  —  and  such  a  court !  Are  you  going  to 
show  it  to  us,  this  French-Italian  court?  Introduce 
123 


LITERARY  STATESMEN 

us  in  turn  to  all  the  distinguished  characters.  How 
much  we  shall  learn,  and  how  interesting  will  be  the 
day  spent  among  such  grand  persons  ! 

"Alas,  Mr.  Reader,  what  a  request  you  are 
making !  I  would  fain  have  the  talent  to  write  a 
history  of  France  ;  I  should  not  then  be  telling 
stories.  But  tell  me,  why  do  you  wish  me  to  intro- 
duce to  you  persons  who  play  no  part  in  my 
novel  ? 

"  You  do  a  great  wrong  in  not  giving  them  parts 
in  it.  What,  you  take  me  back  to  the  year  1572, 
and  then  pretend  to  escape  the  portrayal  of  so 
many  remarkable  men !  Come,  you  cannot  hesi- 
tate. Begin,  and  I  shall  give  you  the  first 
phrase :  The  door  of  the  salon  opened,  and  there 
appeared  .  .  . 

"  But,  Mr.  Reader,  there  were  no  salons  in  the 
castle  of  Madrid.  Salons  .  .  . 

"  Well.  The  great  hall  was  filled  with  a  crowd, 
.  .  .  etc.  .  .  .  among  whom  might  be  distinguished 
.  .  .  etc. 

"  What  do  you  wish  to  have  distinguished  ? 

"  Of  course,  in  the  first  place,  Charles  IX !  ... 

"  And  in  the  second  ? 

"  Not  so  fast.  First  you  must  describe  his  cos- 
tume, then  you  will  give  a  portrait  of  his  appearance, 
and  finally  of  his  character.  That  is  to-day  the  high 
road  for  all  novelists. 

"His  costume?  He  was  in  hunting  dress,  with 
a  great  huntsman's  horn  about  his  neck. 

"  You  are  short  ..." 
124 


MERIMEE   AS   A    CRITIC 

Merimee  then  yields  and  gives  a  sketch 
in  his  own  manner:  — 

"  Well,  imagine  a  young  man  rather  well  formed, 
with  his  head  a  little  sunk  into  his  shoulders,  his 
neck  stretched  out,  and  his  face  thrown  awkwardly 
forward.  His  nose  is  rather  large,  the  lips  are  fine 
and  long,  the  upper  one  protruding.  His  com- 
plexion is  wan,  and  his  large  green  eyes  never  look 
at  the  person  to  whom  he  is  talking.  Moreover,  it 
is  impossible  to  read  in  his  eyes  Saint  Bartholomew, 
or  anything  like  it.  No,  his  expression  is  rather 
stupid  and  restless  than  hard  or  savage." 

In  the  historical  essays  Me'rime'e's  art 
does  not  work  as  well  as  in  the  literary 
essays. 

"  I  like  in  history  only  anecdotes,  and  among  the 
anecdotes  I  prefer  those  in  which  I  think  I  see  a 
true  picture  of  the  customs  and  characteristics  of 
the  epoch.  This  is  not  a  noble  taste,  but  I  admit 
to  my  shame  that  I  would  freely  give  up  Thucydides 
for  some  authentic  memoirs  of  Aspasia  or  of  one 
of  the  slaves  of  Pericles ;  for  memoirs,  which  are 
familiar  talks  of  the  author  with  the  reader,  alone 
furnish  those  portraits  of  man  which  amuse  and 
interest  me." 

As   an   example,    he   quotes    this   "concise 
note"  from  "L'fitoile  "  :  — 
I2S 


LITERARY    STATESMEN 

"The  young  lady  of  Chateauneuf,  one  of  the 
favorites  of  the  king  before  he  went  to  Poland, 
having  made  a  love  marriage  with  Antinotti,  a 
Florentine,  an  overseer  of  galley  slaves  at  Mar- 
seilles, and  having  found  him  wantoning,  killed  him 
like  a  man  with  her  own  hands.  .  .  .  Out  of  this 
story  and  the  many  others  of  which  Brantome  is 
full  my  imagination  builds  a  character,  and  I  call  to 
life  a  woman  of  the  court  of  Henry  the  Third." 

This  taste  makes  M  crime"  e  a  success  as  a 
writer  of  historical  essays  only  where  the 
subject  is  fitted  to  concise  narrative,  where 
the  bearing  is  apparent  without  explanation. 
In  some  essays,  "  Les  Cosaques  d'Autrefois 
and  les  Faux  Demetrius,"  for  instance,  he  is 
hard  to  read,  for  the  stories  are  long  and  not 
interesting  in  outline,  and  the  dulness  of 
them  is  only  emphasized  by  Merimee' s  bare- 
ness of  statement.  One  feels  as  Merimee 
himself  felt  of  Sallust :  — 

"  In  a  long  work  his  style  might  weary,  on 
account  of  a  conciseness  which  is  perhaps  not 
sufficiently  free  from  mannerism.  Applied  to  short 
tales  it  produces  the  deepest  impression,  by  com- 
bining energy  of  thought  with  sobriety  of  setting. 
Art  sometimes  shows  itself  in  this  style  a  little  too 
openly,  in  spite  of  the  affectation  of  disorder  in  the 
composition,  and  one  frequently  forgets  the  interest 
of  the  story  to  admire  the  skill  of  the  story-teller." 
126 


MERIMEE   AS   A   CRITIC 

The  opinions  expressed  in  the  essays  make 
us  like  Merimee  far  more  than  do  the  trucu- 
lent condemnations  of  the  letters.  Some- 
times, of  course,  he  is  unsympathetic,  but 
seldom  or  never  caustic. 

"  Michelangelo,"  he  says,  "  has  conceived  his  Moses 
as  an  athlete.  I  will  be  bold  enough  to  say  that 
this  savage  giant,  with  arms  like  a  porter's  and  a 
beard  of  ropes,  does  not  to  me  represent  the  guide 
and  prophet  of  the  Hebrews.  He  is  a  man  whom 
no  one  would  care  to  meet  in  the  woods,  but  who 
would  not  know  how  to  force  obedience  from  a  stiff- 
necked  race." 

He  does  not  like  what  he  thinks  the  exag- 
gerated grandeur  that  Plutarch  and  Shake- 
speare give  to  Caesar,  but  he  likes  still  less 
the  method  of  Suetonius. 

"  Very  different  from  Plutarch,  who  gives  all  his 
heroes  the  grand  air,  Suetonius  seems  to  have  de- 
lighted in  belittling  his.  His  is  a  low  and  spiteful 
mind  that  cannot  understand  genius.  He  has  neither 
indignation  for  vice  nor  enthusiasm  for  virtue,  but 
he  seeks  everywhere  ridicule,  because  ridicule  levels 
all  reputations  and  destroys  both  terror  and  admira- 
tion. Suetonius  shows  his  whole  nature  in  his 
life  of  Caesar.  He  gives  but  a  few  pages  to  his 
many  remarkable  deeds,  but  he  finds  space  to 
127 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

repeat  in  full  the  devilish  songs  of  the  soldiers 
who  accompanied  in  his  triumph  the  conqueror 
of  the  world." 

This  last  quotation  has  the  tone  that  can 
seldom  be  found  in  any  of  Merime'e's  work 
but  his  essays.  Apparently  he  enjoyed 
them  less  than  his  stories  and  his  letters, 
so  it  may  be  that  the  tone  of  seriousness, 
here  even  severe,  is  one  that  represents 
him  less  intimately  than  his  pervading  irony. 
Yet  his  character  is  the  broader,  that  he 
could  speak  in  that  tone  so  well.  And  it 
is  not  at  all  certain,  merely  because  he  was 
usually  half  contemptuous  in  his  art  and  in 
his  personal  relations,  that  he  did  not  have 
as  genuinely  the  gentler  and  simpler  emo- 
tions and  preferences  that  can  be  seen  in  his 
criticism.  It  is  not  unlikely  that  his  own 
words  about  Beyle  apply  to  himself :  — 

"...  the  fear  of  being  through  a  dupe,  and  the 
constant  care  to  avoid  this  misfortune ;  hence  this 
factitious  hardening,  this  despairing  analysis  of  low 
motives  in  all  generous  action,  this  resistance  to  the 
first  impulses  of  the  heart,  much  more  affected  than 
real  with  him,  it  seems  to  me." 

Certainly  this  timid  narrowing  is,  what- 
ever the  cause,  much  less  constant  in  his 
128 


MERIMEE   AS   A   CRITIC 

essays.  Therefore,  to  read  Merimee's  criti- 
cism after  knowing  his  letters  and  stories, 
is  to  see  an  expression  of  the  more  generous 
side  of  him.  It  is  to  be  able,  in  judging 
him,  to  see  him  less  limited  to  irony,  to  see 
him  as  a  man  of  wider  range. 
1895. 


129 


AMERICAN   ART   CRITICISM 


VI 

AMERICAN   ART   CRITICISM 


IN  contrast  to  the  common  assertion  that  the 
American  race  is  developing  in  its  feelings  for 
life  and  expression  some  traits  prominent  in 
the  French  is  the  fact  that  in  our  contem- 
porary literature  we  are  almost  weakest  where 
the  French  are  strongest.  We  who  in  the  arts 
which  are  less  generally  followed  here,  in  paint- 
ing and  sculpture,  have  contributed  to  the 
first  rank  of  artists,  and  are  respectable  at 
least  in  fiction,  are  in  an  art  which  is  much 
more  practised  here,  that  of  criticism,  really 
insignificant.  Although  in  no  country  do 
people  read  more,  in  no  country  of  impor- 
tance is  the  current  comment  on  books  more 
lacking  in  thought  and  workmanship.  In 
short  stories  we  are  doing  something  firm 
and  individual,  but  in  the  art  of  which  in  a 
nation  of  readers  we  might  expect  high  de- 
velopment, we  are  to-day  as  far  behind  France 
and  even  England  as  we  are  in  poetry.  In 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

comment  on  the  drama,  the  same  low  level  is 
unbroken.  Although  we  are  a  theatre-going 
nation  we  have  nobody  with  the  knowledge 
of  the  stage  which  makes  experts  of  Sarcey, 
Archer,  and  Lemaitre;  nobody  with  the 
literary  charm  put  into  dramatic  criticism 
of  Walkley  or  Anatole  France.  Strangely 
enough,  the  most  interesting  criticism  of  the 
day  is  put  upon  those  arts  of  which  our  peo- 
ple know  least.  Are  there  many  present 
commentators  on  books  in  the  United  States 
who  have  the  subtlety,  the  fine  edge,  the 
intellectual  fineness  shown  in  Mr.  Brownell's 
criticism  of  art?  Is  there  to  be  found  in 
much  of  our  literary  criticism  the  grave  cer- 
tainty and  elevation  of  Mr.  La  Farge,  or  the 
results  of  study,  contact,  energy,  and  high 
aim  which  meet  in  the  style  of  Mrs.  Van 
Rensselaer  and  make  it  alive  even  when  it  is 
rough?  These  critics  in  their  speech  sound 
important,  they  have  the  undertone  of  feeling 
and  understanding,  they  stand  for  grasp  and 
choice.  How  often  can  they  be  matched 
among  the  living  American  writers  whose 
volumes  deal  with  books?  To  add  one  other 
to  the  list,  who  of  our  literary  critics  gives 
the  clear,  informal  explanations  of  technical 
faults  and  successes  that  are  thrown  off  in 
anonymous  judgments  of  contemporary  pic- 


AMERICAN   ART   CRITICISM 

tures   and  books   on  painting  by  the   strict 
and  lawyerlike  pen  of  Mr.  Cox? 

The  explanation  of  these  seemingly  anoma- 
lous conditions  is  to  be  found  in  what  at  first 
sight  appears  to  constitute  the  anomalies.  It 
is  the  size  of  our  reading  public  that  keeps 
our  literary  criticism  lower  than  our  creative 
work  in  literature  and  the  plastic  arts  and  lower 
than  our  art  criticism.  We  read  not  only 
more  books  than  the  people  of  other  coun- 
tries, but  more  newspapers  also ;  and  it  is  the 
newspaper  which  partly  sets  and  entirely  rep- 
resents average  American  standards.  The 
large  amount  of  space  given  in  the  dailies  to 
literature  and  drama  forms  a  contrast  to  the 
quality  of  the  treatment.  They  must  give 
the  crowd  what  it  will  take  immediately. 
They,  the  newspapers,  aiming  at  great  circu- 
lations; the  plays,  aiming  at  popular  runs; 
the  books,  aiming  at  immediate  sale,  are  all 
largely  formed  by  the  taste  of  that  part  of 
humanity  which  in  other  countries,  where 
there  is  no  popular  education,  has  little  to  do 
with  literature.  Small  and  few  indeed  among 
us  are  the  sets  yet  formed  which  raise  and 
nourish  men  who  care  more  for  the  mild  ap- 
proval of  the  judicious  than  for  the  money 
and  the  notoriety  of  popular  success.  Sup- 
pose that  an  American  understood  the  mech- 


LITERARY  STATESMEN 

anism  of  the  drama  as  well  as  M.  Sarcey, 
say,  or  Mr.  Archer,  would  he  be  found  out  and 
encouraged  by  our  journals?  For  a  critic  as 
erudite  as  M.  Brunetiere  what  respect,  what 
dignity  is  there  here  compared  to  what  France 
offers  to  solid  work?  What  newspaper  in 
America  would  not  call  an  unknown  Walkley 
or  Anatole  France  "  too  literary "  ?  How 
many  editors  frankly  tell  contributors  that 
literary  excellence  is  nothing;  that  popu- 
larity of  subject  is  everything !  Thus  it  is 
that  the  size  of  the  audience  which  listens  to 
the  critic  here  makes  him  speak  like  a  stump- 
orator.  The  very  possibilities  of  criticism  keep 
from  it  healthy  encouragement.  The  crowd 
will  not  be  led  too  fast.  We  support  literary 
criticism  in  but  one  weekly  of  the  same  class 
with  the  French  and  English,  and  in  but  one 
daily.  Expert  handling  of  what  we  all  feel 
capable  of  handling  bores  us,  and  even  in- 
sults us.  There  is  a  story,  probably  true, 
that  the  owner  of  a  great  New  York  paper 
discharged  his  dramatic  editor  and  openly 
announced  his  preference  for  ordinary  re- 
porters as  critics  of  the  theatre;  and  book- 
reviews  in  that  as  in  most  of  our  publications 
are  the  side  issues  of  untrained  men.  The 
principal  exception  consists  of  the  careless 
opinions  of  men  who  are  famous  for  other 
136 


AMERICAN   ART   CRITICISM 

things,  and  these  opinions,  being  bought  for 
the  signature,  are  almost  always  miserable. 
How  many  readers  know  of  the  existence  of 
Mr.  Brownell  compared  to  the  number  who 
read  the  trivialities  published  by  prominent 
novelists  whose  critical  faculties  are  so  feeble 
that  they  are  rightly  treated  with  condescen- 
sion by  even  the  newspapers?  When  one 
of  these  prominent  men  does  write  criticisms 
he  is  careful  not  to  go  over  the  heads  of  his 
readers  or  to  hurt  the  man  who  says,  as 
so  many  say,  "  Perhaps  I  don't  know  what  is 
good,  but  I  know  what  I  like,"  meaning  that 
his  opinion  is  as  good  as  another's.  The 
action  of  the  committee  of  the  Army  of  the 
Tennessee,  overruling  as  unintelligent  the 
decision  of  the  Sculptors'  Society,  to  which 
they  had  submitted  designs  for  a  statue  of 
Sherman,  is  fresh  in  our  minds.  We  will 
accept  facts  from  experts,  but  our  opinions 
are  our  own. 

It  is  his  own  opinion,  therefore,  that  the  aver- 
age reader  has  reflected  back  to  him  by  the 
newspapers  and  magazines.  One  characteris- 
tic of  his  opinion  is  that  it  is  not  artistic  but 
ethical.  For  instance,  we  do  not  find  exposi- 
tions of  the  methods  of  Ibsen,  Pinero,  or 
Dumas,  to  take  three  men  remarkable  for 
technical  qualities,  but  homilies  on  the  char- 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

acter  of  Mrs.  Tanqueray  or  on  the  fitness  of 
showing  "  certain  things  "  to  the  public.  In- 
stead of  enthusiasm  like  that  of  the  elder 
Dumas  over  his  son's  skill  in  getting  his 
heroine  back  to  Paris  after  the  third  act  of 
La  Dame  aux  Camelias,  we  have  soliloquies 
on  the  possibility  of  Marguerite's  being  so 
refined  in  her  occupation.  Of  the  few  dailies 
most  read  by  cultivated  Americans,  two  have 
for  dramatic  critics  men  whose  moral  tone  is 
so  high  that  they  are  actually  unacquainted 
with  the  unwholesome  plays  of  France ;  and 
I  have  seen  a  musical  critic  of  prominence 
leave  the  opera-house  after  the  first  act  at  the 
first  presentation  of  "  Manon,"  because  it 
followed  the  novel  too  closely,  to  write  the 
next  day  a  scathing  dismissal  of  the  opera. 
Nowhere  do  we  get  the  detachment,  penetra- 
tion, and  learning  that  must  combine  to  make 
an  equipped  critic  of  books  or  plays.  The 
only  one  among  those  New  York  papers 
worthy  of  notice  which  is  free  from  Jeromiac 
concern  lacks  artistic  seriousness,  too,  and 
aims  only  at  jocosity.  Our  critics  do  not 
study  foreign  models,  they  do  not  study  their 
subjects,  and  they  do  not  have  the  general 
attitude  of  culture  which  is  more  needed  by 
the  critic  than  by  any  other  artist.  Without 
these  difficult  acquirements  they  can,  with 
138 


AMERICAN   ART   CRITICISM 

instincts  compounded  of  ethical  obsessions 
and  carelessness  of  art,  mirror  a  few  prejudices, 
and  that  is  all  they  need  to  do. 

To  remain  cheerful,  however,  one  need 
only  remember  that  criticism  as  an  art  is 
always  a  late  development,  which  truth  is 
too  general  to  grieve  over.  Winslow  Homer 
can  be  a  powerful  artist  on  the  solitary  coast 
of  Maine,  Miss  Wilkins  can  make  pictures 
in  forlorn  New  England  towns,  but  a  gen- 
eral excellence  in  criticism,  much  more  than 
in  any  other  art,  is  dependent  on  the  for- 
mation of  groups  of  intelligent  people,  which 
is  dependent  on  social  stratification.  Criti- 
cism, which  is  immediately  the  voice  of 
culture,  will  appear  only  when  part  of  the 
general  intelligence  now  unsifted  in  our  raw 
mass  of  democracy  is  freed  and  crystallized 
in  smaller  classes  independent  of  everything 
save  their  own  tastes.  It  is,  indeed,  not 
impossible  that  when  these  necessary  divi- 
sions are  made,  the  culture  which  will  result 
will  be  broader  on  account  of  the  influence 
of  democracy,  which  must  still  be  felt; 
because  that  influence,  destructive  now,  may 
then  tend  to  give  a  deeper  human  tone,  to 
give  to  the  ordinary  critic,  the  mere  spokes- 
man of  his  environment,  something  of  that 
wide  interest  tempered  with  humor,  that 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

free  play  with  his  material,  the  average 
mind,  which  has  usually  been  the  exclusive 
possession  of  the  great  critic  of  life,  the 
Rabelais,  Cervantes,  or  Moliere.  Much  as 
we  need  instruction  and  technical  under- 
standing, requisites  to  any  advance,  we  shall 
of  course  be  lucky  if  our  culture,  when  it 
comes,  is  slower  to  run  the  ordinary  his- 
torical course  into  formulism,  and  one  may 
at  least  hope  that  the  narrowness  of  the 
barrier  which  will  separate  our  future  culti- 
vated class  from  the  masses  behind  it,  will 
keep  it  on  the  move  and  prevent  hardening 
into  forms.  Just  now,  however,  it  is  natural 
to  think  less  of  possible  safeguards  for  our 
prospective  civilization  than  of  the  changes 
needed  to  begin  the  refining  process.  There- 
fore, any  growth  of  social  distinctions,  of  a 
leisure  class,  of  respect  for  tradition  and 
authority,  is  an  encouraging  sign,  the  danger 
of  the  sequence  of  bookishness,  rigidity,  and 
deviation  from  the  constants  of  human 
nature  being  too  remote  to  think  of  yet.  In 
the  mean  time  there  is  more  immediate 
promise  in  the  criticism  of  art  than  there  is 
in  that  of  literature,  probably  because  the 
public,  recognizing  the  technical  difficulties 
of  painting  and  sculpture,  sees  more  often 
the  need  of  training  for  the  critic  of  pictures 
140 


AMERICAN    ART    CRITICISM 

and  statues  than  it  sees  the  need  of  train- 
ing and  natural  fitness  in  a  man  who  does 
merely  what  almost  any  reading  American 
feels  capable  of  doing. 


II 

KENYON  Cox  once  wrote :  — 

"  Nothing  could  show  more  curiously  than  does 
this  book  the  advantages  and  disadvantages  of  artis- 
tic criticism  of  art ;  nothing  could  exhibit  more 
completely  the  qualities  and  defects  of  the  artist 
turned  critic.  The  introduction  opens  with  the 
statement  that  '  only  the  writing  on  art  by  one  who 
has  technical  knowledge  of  it  is  of  practical  value,' 
and,  scattered  through  the  pages,  there  are  many 
contemptuous  flings  at  '  a  certain  class  of  writers  on 
art '  whose  '  ignorance  of  the  technique  of  any  art  is 
only  equalled  by  their  ability  to  write  on  it.'  No 
doubt  the  sneer  is  often  justified,  yet  of  many  of  the 
artists  who  make  it,  it  would  hardly  be  too  much  to 
say  that  '  their  knowledge  of  their  subject  is  only 
equalled  by  their  inability  to  write  clearly  of  it.' " 

The  combination  of  a  knowledge  of  their 
subject  with  talent  for  expression  exists  in 
two  of  the  many  painters  who  write,  and  the 
qualities  which  they  have  shown  tell  what 
is  best  in  criticism  in  the  United  States 
141 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

and  what  is  needed  by  most  of  their  fellow 
critics.  John  La  Farge  stands  at  the  head 
of  those  painters  who  are  American  both  by 
birth  and  residence,  and  his  "  Considerations 
on  Painting "  and  "  Letters  from  Japan " 
give  the  most  typical  artist  criticism  in  the 
country,  that  is,  criticism  most  typical  of 
the  devoted  artist,  for  he  has  never  sacrificed 
an  hour  to  perfunctory  writing  or  painting. 

Looking  down  the  list  of  painters  who 
have  left  their  thoughts  in  prose,  from 
Fromentin  and  Delacroix  and  Millet  at  the 
top,  through  Vasari  and  Reynolds  and  Cou- 
ture and  Hunt,  to  Breton  and  Whistler, 
nearer  the  bottom,  one  finds  always  a  keen 
interest  in  general  principles,  very  differ- 
ently expressed,  to  be  sure,  poetically  by 
Millet,  ridiculously  by  Whistler,  sentimen- 
tally by  Breton,  clumsily  by  Couture,  but 
in  one  way  or  another  always  emphasized, 
except  in  the  very  rare  cases,  where  the 
author  cared  for  execution  only.  The 
average  artist  is  interested  in  life  and 
likes  to  generalize  about  it,  so  that  the  talk 
of  the  studio,  apart  from  the  class  room,  is 
general,  human,  and  untechnical.  "  Sin- 
cerity "  will  be  heard  many  times  where 
"  values  "  is  spoken  once.  Mr.  La  Farge  is 
typical  also  of  the  modern  painter,  in  being 
142 


AMERICAN    ART    CRITICISM 

a  man  of  experience  outside  of  art.  He  has 
done  many  things,  —  studied  law,  travelled, 
gone  into  society,  read  largely  in  philosophy, 
science,  and  literature,  painted,  and  been  an 
inventor  in  stained  glass.  Although  some 
of  his  psychological  explanations  border  on 
pedantry,  most  of  his  culture  is  digested, 
and  the  experience  of  the  man  of  the  world 
makes  stronger  what  the  artist  says. 

His  most  general  virtue  is  appreciation. 
He  is  never  bored  or  even  sleepy.  There  is 
always  a  mass  of  meaning  in  the  world  for 
him,  an  interest  rather  in  the  subject-matter 
of  art  than  in  its  processes,  for  he  has  escaped 
entirely  the  fads  of  his  day,  and  knows  how 
much  like  other  men  the  strongly  original 
man  must  be.  As  Couture  says  of  painting : 
"Still  later,  in  Poussin,  it  reaches  maturity; 
it  has  become  grave  and  reserved;  it  re- 
turns to  the  past,  gathers  everything  to- 
gether, and  gives  a  beautiful  lesson."  Sim- 
ilar praise  is  deserved  by  the  writings  of 
Mr.  La  Farge.  Respect  for  the  permanent 
good,  gravity,  reserve,  the  love  of  a  beauti- 
ful lesson,  are  in  him,  and  he  follows  his 
own  advice:  — 

"  First,  therefore,  see  that  your  methods  are 
respectful.  Never  make  light  of  difficulties  or  slip 
easily  over  what  you  find  to  be  obstacles.  Better  be 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

gawky  than  flippant  in  your  work.  Imitate  in  your 
methods  the  methods  of  religious  life,  even  if  they 
oblige  you  to  the  lengthiest  preparations.  And  if  a 
passionate  impulse  carries  you  away,  your  expression 
will  still  have  the  accent  that  comes  of  previous 
respectful  meditation." 

His  appreciation,  sure  and  full  as  it  is, 
and  attractive  as  it  makes  what  he  says  of 
other  men,  sometimes  destroys  the  unity  of 
his  own  entirely  uncreative  criticism,  as 
where  the  great  figure  which  passes  through 
one  of  his  books,  present  always,  although 
sometimes  in  the  background,  overshadows 
the  author  himself.  It  was  like  Mr.  La 
Farge,  however,  to  pick  out  for  a  guide  the 
most  admirable  of  art  critics,  the  sanest,  the 
most  penetrating,  the  one  who  by  his  depth 
and  certainty  of  thought  and  splendor  of 
expression  can  stir  up  the  emotions  while 
appealing  directly  to  the  reason.  La  Farge 
is  above  artistic  trivialities  of  every  kind, 
caring  only  for  the  good,  wise  in  his  judg- 
ment, showing  his  standards  as  inevitably  by 
what  he  quotes  as  by  what  he  says.  Just 
as  Fromentin  stands  out  as  his  instructor  in 
criticism,  the  great  personalities  are  his 
landmarks  in  painting,  men  like  Ruysdael, 
of  whom  he  says  that  "  his  grave  and  solemn 
mind  gives  to  the  simplest  and  most  common 
144 


AMERICAN   ART   CRITICISM 

place  of  landscapes  a  look  of  sad  importance," 
men  like  Rembrandt,  Millet,  and  Michel- 
angelo. He  resembles  his  master  from  afar, 
like  him  filled  with  enthusiasm  for  large 
personalities  and  the  noble  style  in  art,  dis- 
dainful of  triviality  and  all  digression,  of 
tricks  of  execution,  of  any  technical  accom- 
plishment that  is  not  part  of  its  subject,  full 
of  restrained  poetry.  So  elevated  are  these 
virtues  in  themselves  that  one  can  read  the 
lesser  writer  after  the  greater,  and  think 
rather  of  the  distinction  which  imagination 
gives  even  to  modest  literary  powers  than 
of  the  differences  which  make  "Maitres 
d'Autrefois  "  great  and  "Considerations  on 
Painting"  only  admirable. 

Like  Ruysdael's,  La  Farge's  mind,  al- 
though not  sad,  is  grave  and  solemn  enough 
to  give  to  the  common  truths  the  impor- 
tance which  they  alone  can  have.  The  name 
of  death  is  frequent  in  his  pages,  and  humil- 
ity, the  knowledge  of  limitation,  the  melan- 
choly of  mature  happiness,  are  always  present : 
"With  the  fatigue  and  repetition  of  the  in- 
numerable beauties  of  gold  and  color  and 
carving  and  bronze,  the  sense  of  an  exquisite 
art  brings  the  indefinable  sadness  that  be- 
longs to  it,  a  feeling  of  humility  and  of  the 
nothingness  of  man."  The  reader  of  artists' 
10  145 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

books  and  letters  will  feel  how  typical  this 
is  of  the  creative  painter,  who  loves  to 
moralize,  and  who  does  it  often  better  than 
the  literary  man.  Sometimes  Mr.  La 
Farge's  moral izings  get  away  from  him ;  but 
usually,  with  all  their  openness,  they  have  a 
reserve  and  grace  that  put  them  high  for 
literary  art.  To  show  how  naturally  they 
weave  themselves  into  the  subject,  and  at 
the  same  time  to  show  the  best  of  the  author's 
style,  take  this  passage  from  the  letters  from 
Japan : — 

"  And  I  listened,  until  the  blaze  of  the  sun  passed 
under  the  green  film  of  the  trees,  to  the  fluting  of 
the  priests  in  the  sanctuary  on  the  hill.  It  was  like 
a  hymn  to  nature.  The  noise  of  the  locusts  had 
stopped  for  a  time ;  and  this  floating  wail,  rising  and 
falling  in  unknown  and  incomprehensible  modula- 
tions, seemed  to  belong  to  the  forest  as  completely 
as  their  cry.  The  shrill  and  liquid  song  brought 
back  the  indefinite  melancholy  that  one  has  felt 
with  the  distant  sound  of  children's  voices,  singing 
of  Sunday  in  drowsy  rhythms.  But  these  sounds 
belonged  to  the  place,  to  its  own  peculiar  genius  — 
of  a  lonely  beauty,  associated  with  an  indefinite  past, 
little  understood ;  with  death,  and  primeval  nature, 
and  final  rest" 

"Why,"  asked  a  young  sculptor  the  other 
day,  "  do  painters  write  so  well  ?  "     Genuine, 
146 


AMERICAN   ART   CRITICISM 

serious,  unpedantic  thinking  about  impor- 
tant things  removed  from  the  accidents  of 
daily  civil  life  seems  to  be  more  common 
among  workers  in  the  plastic  arts  than  among 
any  other  class,  and  it  shows  when  they 
take  up  the  pen.  Their  lives  are  devoted 
to  ideas,  which,  unlike  the  literary  men, 
they  do  not  have  to  beat  out  thin  for  a 
living.  Then,  too,  the  long  apprenticeship 
teaches  them  how  much  sacrifice  any  good 
work  demands,  and  often  as  fun  is  heard  in 
the  studios  flippancy  is  rare.  It  is  experi- 
ence as  well  as  imagination  and  culture  that 
makes  Mr.  La  Farge  write  so  well.  Never 
stirring,  never  emotional,  his  reflective 
calmness  seems  to  be  laden  with  knowledge 
of  life.  It  is  in  the  style  itself:  — 

"Far  away  the  sounds  of  pilgrims'  clogs  echoed 
from  the  steps  of  distant  temples  ;  we  heard  the 
running  of  many  waters.  Above  us  a  few  crows, 
frequenters  of  temples,  spotted  the  light  for  a 
moment,  and  their  cries  faded  with  them  through 
the  branches.  A  great,  heavy,  ugly  caterpillar  crept 
along  the  mossy  edge  of  the  balustrade,  like  the  fresh 
incarnation  of  a  soul  which  had  to  begin  it  all  anew." 

Even  when  no  moral  truth  is  touched,  the 

same  impression  comes  sometimes  from  the 

unobtrusive  music  of  the  words,  as  in  "a 

'47 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

pleasantly  managed  balance  of  the  full  and 
empty  spaces,"  or  "whose  worn  surfaces 
contained  marvels  of  passionate  delicacy  and 
care  framed  in  noble  lives." 

Although  Mr.  La  Farge  is  always  grave 
there  are  touches  of  light,  which  have  their 
charm  partly  in  the  sobriety  of  their  setting. 
There  is  also  frequently  a  French  freshness 
and  pointedness  of  epithet  that  would  be  wit 
or  epigram  if  it  were  not  so  restrained,  as  in 
the  last  of  the  modern  painting  tricks  spoken 
of  in  this  praise  of  the  Japanese :  — 

"  Not  knowing  the  science  and  art  of  perspective 
drawing,  nor  the  power  of  representing  shadows 
according  to  rule,  nor  having  the  habit  of  ruling 
lines  with  a  ruler  to  give  interest,  nor  of  throwing 
little  witty  accents  of  dark  to  fill  up  blanks,  they 
were  perhaps  the  more  obliged  to  concentrate  their 
powers  upon  the  end  of  the  work ;  and  their  real 
motive  was  the  work  itself." 

At  the  end  of  all  this  praise  a  reservation 
must  be  made;  not  the  obvious  one  that 
Mr.  La  Farge  is  not  constructive  in  criti- 
cism, that  his  wholes  are  not  as  good  as 
some  of  his  bits,  but  the  more  fundamental 
one  that  the  style  leaves  the  reader  troubled, 
questioning  its  sincerity.  The  personality 
in  it  seems  dual,  its  virtues  appear  to  be 
148 


AMERICAN   ART   CRITICISM 

part  of  the  artist  rather  than  of  the  man. 
The  conscious  mixture  of  frankness  and 
reserve,  the  appreciation  of  every  high  work 
or  impulse,  the  imaginative  morality,  the 
gravity,  the  harmony,  the  humility,  seem  to 
be  there  because  they  are  the  best  things. 
They  seem  to  be  chosen.  I  cannot  select 
passages  to  prove  that,  for  it  is  an  impres- 
sion instilled  insidiously  by  the  whole;  but 
perhaps  it  is  most  definite  when  the  author 
talks  about  himself.  A  warm  admirer  of  La 
Farge,  the  artist  once  spoke  of  him  as  sur- 
passingly clever.  That  word  seemed  to  give 
the  key  to  my  impression.  The  person  has 
not  gone  into  the  style.  It  is  not  born;  it 
is  made.  The  man  seems  to  be  separated 
from  the  artist  who  selects  the  thoughts  and 
phrases,  choosing  excellently.  Pose  it  is 
not,  yet  it  is  a  lack  of  innocence.  It  is  sin- 
cere aesthetically  and  intellectually,  rather 
than  sincere  with  the  force  of  an  included 
character,  and  it  is  for  this  reason  perhaps 
as  much  as  because  of  the  difference  in  per- 
ception and  language  that  La  Farge's  fine 
passages,  exceptionally  just  and  beautiful  as 
they  are,  have  little  of  that  rush  of  all-round 
living  truth  which  in  the  words  of  a  Fro- 
mentin  may  touch  the  heart  of  the  most 
critical  reader. 

149 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

III 

KENYON  Cox  is  in  most  ways  the  opposite  of 
Mr.  La  Farge.  His  writing,  mostly  anony- 
mous and  little  known  to  the  public,  is  felt 
by  artists  on  account  of  the  technical  knowl- 
edge, clear  and  severe  style,  and  fearless 
speech ;  but  it  is  not  only  the  victims  of  his 
rigor  who  do  not  wholly  approve  of  his  man- 
ner. An  artist  who  received  only  high 
praise  from  him,  spoke  with  coolness  of  his 
lawyer-like  virtues.  Some  competent  ob- 
servers would  have  criticism  more  sympa- 
thetic. It  may  well  be  answered  that  what 
Americans  suffer  most  from  is  the  leniency 
of  their  few  authoritative  critics.  Not  only 
do  the  newspaper  reviewers  praise  under 
the  guidance  of  the  counting-room,  but  com- 
mentators of  more  eminence  deal  in  the 
amenities  to  which  they  are  tempted  by  per- 
sonal acquaintance  with  the  producers  of 
literature;  and  even  of  the  few  who  do  not 
lack  courage,  the  greater  part  think  that 
arts  in  their  infant  state  should  be  treated 
with  gentleness.  Mr.  Cox  spoke  of  his 
companions  in  art  with  the  unsoftened  hon- 
esty which  most  intelligent  critics  confine  in 
public  to  the  dead,  and  apply  only  in  private 
to  the  living. 

150 


AMERICAN   ART   CRITICISM 

The  past  tense  comes  naturally,  to  express 
Mr.  Cox's  position,  although  he  is  still 
painting  and  writing  in  New  York.  It 
seems  apt,  because  he  has  ceased  to  write 
much  about  the  current  picture  exhibitions, 
the  significant  reason  for  this  being,  it  is 
generally  believed,  that  he  found  his  radical 
experiment  in  frankness  too  uncomfortable 
and  preferred  silence  to  compliance.  To 
the  student,  at  least,  there  is  a  loss,  and  if 
competent  and  fearless  criticism  is  favor- 
able alike  for  advance  in  art  and  in  public 
taste,  no  critic  was  more  needed.  It  must 
be  said,  however,  that  not  all  intelligent 
people  took  the  same  view  of  Mr.  Cox's 
withdrawal.  "Of  course,"  said  an  admirer 
of  him, — 

"  Strictly  just  criticism  is  what  is  wanted  where  art 
is  established,  as  in  Europe.  But  in  this  country, 
to  say  practically,  '  A  dozen  of  you  are  trying  for 
the  right  thing,  but  only  two  of  you  have  the 
natural  gifts  to  reach  it,'  is  the  kind  of  frankness 
that  blights.  All  who  are  trying  for  what  is  right 
should  be  encouraged  and  only  false  ideas  treated 
severe." 

This  question  is  obviously  too  large  for 
dogmatism. 

To  show  the  suggestiveness,  concreteness, 
and  bluntness  of  Mr.  Cox's  remarks  on  tech- 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

nical  execution  would  take  too  many  quota- 
tions. In  praising  or  blaming  conception, 
color,  drawing,  or  any  other  element,  he 
never  has  vague  conclusions,  but  always 
definite  ideas,  well  summed  up  in  words  and 
full  of  detail.  The  free  tone  in  which  he 
speaks  of  even  his  most  prominent  contem- 
poraries is  shown  in  this  remark:  "Mr.  Sar- 
gent is  of  all  living  painters  perhaps  the 
most  consummate  virtuoso.  It  is  vain  to 
look  to  him  for  thought,  profundity,  harmo- 
nies of  tone  or  line;  but  Paginini  was 
none  the  less  great  because  he  was  not 
Beethoven,  and  Sargent  is  the  Paginini  of 
painting."  Of  Abbott  Thayer  he  speaks  in 
a  characteristic  way,  combining  appreciation 
of  his  good  qualities  with  a  frank  statement 
of  his  defects :  — 

"  Here  the  manner  is  rough,  heavy,  and  labored, 
and  the  color  brown  and  lifeless,  but  the  root  of  the 
matter  is  in  it.  One  learns  to  look  through  the 
mannered  and  somewhat  unpleasant  technique,  and 
one  is  rewarded  by  finding  a  depth  and  purity  of 
sentiment  which  is  delightful.  One  feels  the  charm 
of  the  wistful,  childish  faces,  and  one  forgives  every- 
thing else." 

To  suggest  his  power  of  stating  clearly  a 
technical  principle,  one  quotation  must  be 


AMERICAN   ART   CRITICISM 

relied  upon.  Mr.  Van  Dyck  had  spoken  of 
blue  as  a  luminous  color,  as  shown  in 
Monet's  landscapes.  Mr.  Cox  says:  — 

"  It  is  precisely  the  least  luminous  of  all  colors, 
and  that  is  why  it  is,  as  Mr.  Van  Dyck  says,  the 
'  most  unmanageable,'  and  why  Reynolds  formulated 
his  rule,  which  Gainsborough  defied,  that  it  should 
be  reserved  for  the  shadows  and  never  appear  in  the 
principal  light  of  a  picture.  Blue  is  essentially  a 
shadow,  and  that  very  fact,  rightly  understood,  is 
the  key'  to  impressionists'  use  of  it ;  for  as  never  so 
little  blue  will  at  once  produce  the  effect  of  shadow, 
one  is  enabled  to  paint  on  a  much  higher  key  with 
blue  shadows  than  without.  Instead  of  a  difference 
in  the  degrees  of  remove  from  white,  the  impres- 
sionist merely  gives  a  difference  of  tint,  and  so  gets 
his  whole  canvas  into  the  upper  register  and  makes 
it  the  dazzling  thing  we  know,  while  his  pale  blues, 
in  spite  of  their  paleness,  still  look  like,  and  are, 
shadows.  It  is  in  the  shadow  alone  that  Ver  Meer  or 
the  modern  impressionists  use  their  blue  ;  light  they 
invariably  render  as  warm  in  tone,  yellow,  or  even 
pink,  either  of  these  colors  being  really  '  more 
luminous  than  white,'  which  partakes  of  the  cold 
nature  of  blue.  It  is  the  non-luminous  nature  of 
blue  that  makes  a  blue  sky  so  hard  to  paint,  and 
every  decorator  knows  how  blue  kills  the  light  of  a 
room.  It  is  only  by  breaking  blue  with  all  sorts  of 
warmer  tones,  as  Gainsborough  did,  that  it  can  be 
made  to  express  light  at  all." 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

Even  one  who  thinks  this  the  kind  of 
work  which  America  needs  should  of  course 
mark  its  limits.  Honesty  is  not  the  only 
quality  which  keeps  Mr.  Cox  from  pleasing 
the  public.  To  take  hold  of  the  people, 
the  critic  must  generalize  highly.  His 
concrete  judgments  must  be  so  set  in  ele- 
mentary principles,  familiar  to  all,  that  they 
will  seem  but  the  text  for  the  expounding 
of  these  fundamental  ideas.  This  does  not 
of  necessity  point  to  Ruskinism,  although 
a  large  element  of  moralizing  and  obvious 
poetizing  might  be  recommended  in  a  recipe 
for  criticism  of  which  the  appeal  should  be 
universal.  Criticism  may  be  humanized 
without  being  moralized.  If  Fromentin's 
perceptions  were  not  given  unity  by  strong 
feeling,  by  a  distinct  point  of  view,  by  the 
individuality,  the  personal  element  in  his 
style,  he  would  not  with  all  his  knowledge 
of  painting  and  writing  be  the  first  of  art 
critics.  If  Diderot  had  not  connected  pic- 
tures and  statues  with  the  other  interests 
of  life,  he  could  not  have  led  the  intelli- 
gence of  France  to  art  as  he  did  in  the 
Eighteenth  Century.  Emotional  sympathy, 
controlled  but  expressed,  is  needed  to  give 
the  critic  the  ear  of  the  world  —  moral 
imagination,  ardor.  The  human  tone  is 


AMERICAN   ART   CRITICISM 

what  Mr.  Cox  lacks.  His  style,  strong, 
clear,  free  of  moralizing  and  of  guesswork, 
is  not  alive,  but  formal,  merely  intellectual. 
He  certainly  sees  fundamental  moral,  men- 
tal, emotional  elements  in  the  artists  with 
whom  he  deals,  and  handles  them  as  fairly 
as  he  does  technical  methods,  but  that 
does  not  give  similar  qualities  to  his  own 
presentation.  Accuracy,  simplicity,  value 
to  the  student,  are  in  this  estimate  of  Turner 
no  more  clearly  than  is  the  lack  of  the  more 
universal  elements  which  make  literature. 

"Turner's  city  is  like  one  seen  in  a  troubled 
dream,  —  luridly  magnificent,  but  rankly  impossible 
in  every  line.  Repose  is  carefully  eliminated,  and 
mass  is  everywhere  subdivided  into  an  endless  mass 
of  confusing  and  benumbing  details ;  church  spires 
are  lifted  to  a  Babel-like  elevation ;  the  bridge  across 
the  river  becomes  Cyclopean  in  its  stride;  every- 
thing is  colossal,  yet  wavering  and  uncertain,  like  a 
city  in  the  clouds  at  sunset  —  and,  like  such  a  city, 
one  expects  to  see  it  dissolve  and  transform  itself 
before  one's  eyes. 

"That  this  is  a  work  of  strong  imagination  no 
one  can  deny ;  but  whether  or  not  it  is  that  of  a 
great  or  healthy  imagination  is  a  different  question. 
To  us  the  imagination  of  Turner  seems  an  emi- 
nently morbid  and  —  let  us  risk  the  word  —  theatri- 
cal one.  His  conception  of  art  was  scenic  and 
*$$ 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

spectacular ;  his  mind  was  operatic.  Many  of  his 
little  vignettes  seem  like  sketches  for  the  scenery  of 
•3.  f eerie,  and  he  would  have  been  the  greatest  scene- 
painter  that  ever  lived.  His  natural  endowment 
was  great,  his  knowledge  of  nature  profound ;  but 
his  carelessness  of  truth  was  supreme,  and  his  influ- 
ence, wherever  exercised,  has  been  almost  unmixedly 
for  evil." 

This  summary,  strong  as  it  is,  approaches 
a  danger  often  connected  with  the  power 
of  vigorous  writing,  —  the  heightening  of 
contrasts,  the  omission  of  reservations,  in 
order  to  be  striking.  The  student  does  not 
care.  He  is  looking  less  for  a  judgment 
that  is  absolutely  judicial  than  for  inside 
light  on  art,  and  he  gets  more  from  the 
expert  whose  conclusion  is  wrong  than 
from  the  ignorant  person  who  is  right ;  how- 
ever irrelevant  the  standards  of  the  expert 
may  be  to  the  picture  he  is  judging.  Mr. 
Cox  says  of  the  Assumption :  "  It  is  clumsy, 
and  posed  in  its  arrangement,  the  figures  are 
common  in  type  and  (several  of  them)  badly 
drawn,  the  color  is  bright  with  the  bright- 
ness of  stained  glass,  thin  and  lacking  in 
quality.  .  .  .  The  '  Presentation  '  is  flat  and 
hard  and  commonplace,  and  the  others  are 
grimy  and  brown  and  woolly,  and  common- 
place too. "  That  may  be  true,  but  it  may 
156 


AMERICAN   ART   CRITICISM 

well  be  said  that  Titian  is  not  adequately 
accounted  for.  Mr.  Cox  is  frankly  a  student 
neither  of  the  public  nor  of  the  past.  "  The 
earlier  men,  the  Vivarini  and  the  rest,  and 
even  Gentile  Bellini  and  the  much  lauded 
Carpaccio,  may,  by  all  but  the  historical 
student  of  art,  be  entirely  neglected." 
His  judgment  does  not  change  with  the  time 
or  the  artist.  He  is  always  Kenyon  Cox,  a 
New  York  painter  of  to-day,  clear-headed, 
sturdy,  educated,  applying  the  standards  of 
contemporary  execution  to  all  time  and 
every  place.  In  praise  it  is  the  same.  Of 
Pallas  and  Mars  he  says :  — 

"  The  fulness  and  glow  of  color  is  Titian  at  his 
best,  but  Titian  with  a  difference  —  Titian  inclining 
to  the  blue  and  green  of  the  scale  and  away  from 
the  red  and  yellow.  The  richness  of  light  and 
shade,  the  glow  of  the  lovely  knees  and  rounded 
arms,  and  the  transparent  depths  of  shadow,  are  like 
Correggio,  but  a  Correggio  of  more  daring  invention, 
and  shorn  of  the  affectations  and  prettinesses  adored 
of  school  girls.  The  lithe  suppleness  of  full  muscled 
form,  the  adorable  distinction  of  the  delicately  poised 
heads,  with  their  shining  braids  of  golden-brown  hair, 
the  firm  hands,  with  their  square-ended  fingers  — 
these  are  Tintoretto  and  none  other ;  one  of  the 
first  painters  of  all  time  when  he  took  the  time  to 
be  so." 

JS7 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

Inspiriting  as  this  is,  it  does  not  touch 
what  makes  Tintoretto  part  of  the  world's 
history.  To  appreciate  Mr.  Cox  is  to  see 
what  a  narrow  ground  he  stands  upon,  at  the 
same  time  that  one  sees  how  few  occupy  it ; 
and  after  all  the  limitations  are  drawn,  he 
remains  a  bracing  and  regulating  critic. 
He  respects  success  in  the  solution  of  a 
given  problem,  and  knows  it  when  he  sees 
it ;  and  therefore  he  is  as  much  needed  now 
as  others  who  have  what  he  lacks,  —  the  love 
of  beauty  and  of  poetry. 

IV 

IN  any  criticism  an  interesting  element  is 
the  personality  of  the  critic,  and  in  no  con- 
temporary American  criticism  is  there  a 
fuller  character  than  there  is  in  the  style 
and  substance  of  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer's 
writing.  The  quality,  therefore,  which 
her  style  has  in  a  pre-eminent  degree, 
is  the  sense  of  life  and  some  of  the  best 
personal  elements.  Her  constant  improve- 
ment in  technical  skill  shows  devotion  to  the 
demands  of  words  and  phrases ;  but,  after  all, 
her  work  remains  of  the  kind  which  leaves 
the  reader  with  a  respect  for  literature,  but 
a  realization  of  its  littleness  in  comparison 
'58 


AMERICAN   ART   CRITICISM 

to  its  subject.  To  give  the  elements  of  her 
own  power,  it  may  be  enough  to  quote  her 
praise  of  another :  — 

"I  knew  of  no  more  delightful  place  than  his 
studio,  where  one  forgot  the  art,  almost,  in  one's 
interest  in  the  man  —  or  felt  it  to  be  merely  a  part, 
a  fragment,  an  incomplete  revelation,  of  a  most 
attractive  personality,  a  most  intelligent  mind,  a 
most  warm  and  honest  heart.  He  loved  his  art  as 
few  men  love  it  even  among  artists  ;  and  he  seemed 
to  love  humanity  as  do  few  of  us,  I  fear,  in  any 
walk  of  life.  A  talk  with  him  was  one  of  the  best 
spurs  to  effort,  to  energy,  to  enthusiasm  of  a  clear- 
sighted and  not  a  maudlin  kind,  that  an  artist  or  a 
critic  could  receive.  No  one  could  be  careless  or 
apathetic,  unreasoning  or  hypercritical,  in  George 
Fuller's  Company  —  no  one  could  forget  the  pleas- 
ure and  responsibility  of  his  work  whether  that  work 
were  painting  or  mere  commentary." 

How  many  critics  can  be  so  serious  with- 
out loss?  In  how  many  is  earnest  feeling 
at  once  strength  and  fineness?  Although 
much  that  can  be  learned  shows  in  this 
style,  its  worth  is  the  way  of  seeing  the 
world,  the  something  that  gives  importance 
to  elementary  things  said  simply.  The 
words  tell  us  that  the  writer  has  felt  keenly, 
and  seen  with  an  intelligence  which  is 
kind.  We  know  that  frivolous  things  are 
'59 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

not  part  of  her,  that  even  her  humor  is 
dignified.  One  kind  of  earnestness  is  the 
most  depressing  fault,  one  rare  kind  the 
highest  faculty.  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer,  who 
writes  for  the  general  public,  sometimes 
mars  her  pages  by  the  direct  teaching  style, 
but  this  roughness  of  form  almost  disappears 
in  the  general  tone  of  gravity  and  experi- 
ence, of  enthusiasm  controlled  by  a  sense  of 
what  cannot  be  said. 

Simplicity  is  the  natural  expression  of 
such  a  nature.  Her  words  are  common  ones, 
not  infrequently  repeated.  There  is  little 
ornament,  no  over  subtle  idea.  Many  of 
her  pages  are  admirably  written  technically, 
as  well  as  essentially,  but  the  finish  is 
seldom  obtrusive:  — 

"  I  have,  indeed,  seen  one  or  two  Japanese 
pictures  where  a  weeping  willow  looked  very  well. 
There  it  overhung  a  cascade;  and  it  looked  well 
because  the  falling  lines  of  water  harmonized  with 
its  own  lines  —  because,  so  to  say,  the  cascade  ex- 
cused its  abnormal  shape.  If  you  have  a  little  cas- 
cade, then,  plant  a  little  weeping  willow ;  or  if  you 
have  a  big  waterfall,  encourage  a  weeping  willow  to 
grow  big  beside  it ;  but  do  not  allow  one  to  shed 
its  tears  in  the  centre  of  your  lawn,  or  to  mingle  its 
weak  pendulousness  with  the  sturdier,  more  normal 
forms  of  the  trees  in  your  foreground  group  or  your 
160 


AMERICAN   ART   CRITICISM 

forest-like  plantation.  It  can  never  form  an  assent, 
like  a  Lombardy  poplar ;  it  can  only  form  a  contrast 
and,  almost  invariably,  an  inharmonious  one.  It  is 
out  of  all  relation  with  soft  round-headed  trees, 
and  still  more  with  angularly  spreading  or  aspiring 
trees." 

As  unaffected  as  this  and  yet  as  far  from 
artless,  the  style  seems  born  no  less  of  expe- 
rience than  of  character.  Frankness,  expan- 
sion, amiability  are  in  it,  but  above  them 
are  discretion,  practical  wisdom,  and  taste, 
the  weight  of  experience  of  many  sides  of 
life.  It  seems  to  me  of  minor  importance 
that  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer  writes  mainly 
about  art.  Whatever  might  have  been  her 
subject,  the  attraction  would  have  been  the 
same.  One  who  reads  her  essay  on  "  People 
in  New  York,"  or  her  story  called  "One 
Man  Who  was  Happy,"  will  see  this  attrac- 
tion at  its  best.  Her  knowledge  of  life, 
from  fashion  to  the  slums,  her  interest  in 
all  its  forms,  is  not  so  much  the  cause  as 
the  result  of  the  quality  which  makes  her 
charm.  Active  political  work  and  histori- 
cal research  simply  fit  into  the  same  virtue, 
sane  but  earnest  intelligence  applied  to 
those  subjects  which  are  most  important 
to  the  race.  Literature  that  does  not 
seem  like  an  overflow  of  life  may  be  charm- 
ii  161 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

ing,  but  it  is  not  impressive.  An  instinc- 
tive sense  of  the  reality  of  the  world,  a 
point  of  view  near  the  centre,  is  needed  to 
allow  the  individual  to  borrow  some  of  the 
world's  momentum.  "Henry  James,"  said 
a  clever  man  to  me,  "has  hopelessly  handi- 
capped himself  by  taking  for  the  centre  of 
his  world  the  country  house,  which  is  not 
the  centre  of  the  universe."  Mrs.  Van 
Rensselaer's  feeling  for  life,  for  the  mass  of 
men  as  the  world  on  which  classes,  intellec- 
tual as  well  as  social,  are  but  hills  and 
valleys,  has  given  her  some  of  her  faults  as 
an  artist,  notably  some  needless  explanation, 
but  that,  with  the  other  defects  of  form  with 
which  she  started,  has  rapidly  decreased  with 
work ;  so  that  in  the  writing  of  the  last  two 
years  the  form  is  a  comparatively  adequate 
channel  for  the  nobility  of  thought  and  feel- 
ing. The  words  every  year  carry  more  and 
more  uninterruptedly  the  breadth,  the 
warmth,  the  understanding  of  fundamentals, 
the  kindness  that  make  her  essays  and  her 
stories  live.  With  all  this  seriousness  there 
goes  the  loyalty  to  art  which  makes  her,  as 
she  says  in  her  article  on  Stevenson,  rewrite 
not  less  than  thirty  times  to  make  a  passage 
satisfactory  to  her  in  sound  as  well  as  in 
sense.  Some  faults  there  will  always  be, 
162 


AMERICAN   ART   CRITICISM 

but  they  have  little  to  do  with  the  rare 
combination  of  sincerity  and  delicacy  of 
feeling,  earnestness  and  constancy  of  effort, 
clearness  and  lack  of  digression  in  thought, 
which  combine  into  a  vital  style.  To  quote 
again  her  words  of  another :  — 

"  A  philosopher  very  wise  in  that  most  precious 
kind  of  lore  which  gives  the  soul  modesty  and  poise, 
cheerfulness,  humor,  and  courage ;  a  student  of 
human  nature,  not  with  classification  and  categories 
to  fill  out,  but  with  a  special  welcoming  niche  pre- 
pared for  the  reception  of  each  new  human  soul ; 
a  'detached  intelligence,'  but  a  heart  intimately 
attached  to  every  palpitant  fibre  in  the  web  of 
existence,  which  loved  to  love,  and  chose  for  its 
hatred  only  fundamentally  hateful  and  harmful 
things  like  hypocrisy,  vanity,  intolerance,  and  cow- 
ardice in  the  face  of  life." 

After  the  death  of  the  same  man,  Steven- 
son, she  wrote:  "In  our  little  world  of  art, 
in  our  strenuous  little  world  of  oft-defrauded 
but  perennial  aspiration,  I  feel  that  there 
will  never  again  be  quite  as  much  joy  in  the 
technical  struggle."  But  greater  always 
than  her  interest  in  the  technical  struggle  is 
her  care  for  people,  "the  motley  pageant  of 
the  streets,"  as  she  says,  the  life  outside  as 
well  as  in.  "...  to  see  the  rich  of  New 
163 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

York  in  all  their  gorgeousness  one  must 
visit  Central  Park  of  a  pleasant  afternoon. 
I  like  to  do  this  myself,  in  the  finest  car- 
riage owned  by  any  of  my  friends,  and  to 
pretend  that  nothing  else  could  suit  me  quite 
so  well."  Then,  more  seriously,  comes  the 
interest  in  "those  who  are  helping  to  turn 
the  wheels  of  the  big,  busy,  experimenting 
world."  To  find  the  gravest  note,  read 
"One  Man  Who  was  Happy,"  on  the  one 
hand,  and  on  the  other,  the  end  of  "People 
in  New  York,"  both  full  of  personal  feel- 
ing ;  one  for  the  individual,  the  other  for  a 
class. 

"  Do  you  know  that  the  tiny  gifts  in  money  and 
food  which  pass  from  almost  empty  to  quite  empty 
hands  in  this  town  of  ours  must  exceed  in  their 
noble  aggregate  the  lordly  sums  that  our  rich  folks 
give  in  charity  ?  .  .  .  You  might  see  dreadful  things 
in  the  streets  of  this  region,  more  dreadful  things  in 
its  flaming  bar-rooms  and  dance-halls,  things  most 
dreadful  and  pitiful  beyond  words  in  its  damp  and 
filthy  cellars,  in  its  naked  attics,  which  are  cold  past 
sufferance  in  winter,  and  in  summer  pestilential  with 
a  tropic  heat.  And  now  you  might  hear  the  des- 
perate cry,  '  Let  us  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry,  for 
to-morrow  we  die,'  and  again  the  still  more  desper- 
ate moan,  '  Help  as  to  eat,  drink,  and  be  warm, 
just  for  once  —  for  we  are  dying  to-day.'  " 
164 


AMERICAN   ART   CRITICISM 

To  come  back  to  the  contrast  again;  all 
this  is  in  the  woman  who  speaks  of  "that 
natural  love  for  pretty  things  which  assails 
even  the  least  extravagant  of  my  sex,"  whose 
articles  in  a  New  York  newspaper  led  the 
opposition  to  woman  suffrage  at  the  time  of 
the  agitation  there,  whose  pen  has  carried 
weight  in  many  political  changes,  who  in 
many  branches  of  art,  although  not  an  ex- 
pert, is  a  scholar.  The  feminine  quality  is 
in  every  page,  making  more  striking  the  pic- 
ture of  what  one  woman  can  do.  The  kind- 
ness i§  feminine,  the  seriousness,  the  humor, 
the  taste,  all  are  necessarily  feminine  since 
all  are  personal.  It  is  a  striking  case  of  a 
character  steadily  conquering  a  mode  of 
expression,  not  by  the  method  of  putting 
into  the  words  only  what  would  easily  go 
into  them,  but  by  working  at  them  until 
they  received  the  whole  personality  with  its 
exceptional  richness.  All  this  is  essentially 
praise  tf  her  work  as  literature;  but  that 
work  has  its  place  as  interesting  criticism, 
because  the  appreciation  and  the  power  which 
have  counted  for  so  much  in  New  York  life, 
have  been  put  in  such  large  part  into  making 
art  ideas  alive  to  a  class  of  readers  who 
could  only  be  effectively  reached  by  a  per- 
son whose  point  of  view  was  widely  human. 
'65 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

V 

AMONG  contemporary  Americans  Mr.  Brown- 
ell  is  the  best  representative  of  the  powers 
and  the  shortcomings  of  one  very  distinct 
kind  of  literature,  which  gains  its  strength 
from  culture  and  has  the  weaknesses  of  such 
an  origin.  There  are  more  critics  funda- 
mentally of  his  sort  in  England,  and  there 
are  some  with  superficial  resemblances  to 
him  in  France,  because  it  is  from  the  litera- 
ture of  France  that  he  has  drawn  largely  for 
his  education.  This  special  study  of  French 
literature,  conspicuous  now  in  American  and 
English  critical  minds,  gives  usually  lucidity 
and  prudence;  but  it  instigates  the  attempt 
to  assimilate  qualities  which  seldom  enter 
organically  into  superior  English  style,  such 
as  the  studied  emphasis  of  the  epithet  and 
the  manner  of  intellectual  sprightliness. 
Although,  however,  French  models  are  not 
aids  to  permanent  English  literature,  the 
general  level  of  current  writing  is  doubtless 
being  raised  by  the  study  of  them.  Senti- 
mental rhetoric  and  heavy  truism  are  killed 
by  it.  Respect  for  attainment,  for  skill,  for 
expert  opinion  is  instilled  by  it.  In  "  French 
Traits,"  Mr.  Brownell's  thought  seems  more 
the  result  of  immediate  observation,  al- 
166 


AMERICAN   ART   CRITICISM 

though  there  too  it  owes  much  to  good  books 
or  to  good  company;  and  in  "French  Art," 
we  get,  not  copied  but  chosen  and  reflected, 
some  of  those  clear,  permanent  ideas  which 
are  the  heritage  of  culture,  to  which,  now 
and  then,  some  original  critic  adds  some- 
thing; so  that  those  who  never  get  to  the 
sources,  to  "Maitres  d'Autrefois,"  for  in- 
stance, to  Millet's  letters,  to  a  dozen  other 
springs,  to  the  talk  of  living  painters,  miss, 
if  they  read  "French  Art,"  much  less  than 
if  they  do  not;  for  in  it  are  given  with  dig- 
nity and  purity  the  lasting  conceptions, 
slowly  accumulated,  of  the  best  general 
criticism;  points  of  view  merely  burlesqued 
by  many  more  popular  English  writers. 

Mr.  Brownell's  style  is  studied;  it  verges 
on  epigram.  "  To  be  adequate  to  the  require- 
ments —  rarely  very  exacting  in  any  case  — 
made  of  one;  never  to  show  stupidity;  to 
have  a  great  deal  of  taste  and  an  instinctive 
feeling  for  what  is  elegant  and  refined;  to 
abhor  pedantry  and  take  gayety  at  once 
lightly  and  seriously;  and  beyond  this  to 
take  no  thought,  is  to  be  clever.  .  .  ." 
That,  I  think,  is  a  pleasing  definition,  with 
just  enough  lightness  to  fit  its  subject.  The 
power  of  pressing  a  whole  point  of  view  into 
a  few  phrases  without  being  pyrotechnic  is 
167 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

shown  in  an  extract,  much  of  which  might 
apply  to  the  kind  of  literature  which  he 
himself  makes. 

"  The  neo-Greek  painters  are  thoroughly  educated. 
They  lack  the  picturesque  and  unexpected  note  of 
their  poetic  brethren  —  they  lack  the  moving  and 
interpreting,  the  elevating  and  exquisite  touch  of 
these ;  nay,  they  lack  the  penetrating  distinction 
that  radiates  even  from  rusticity  itself  when  it  is 
inspired  and  transfigured  as  it  appears  in  such  works 
as  those  of  Millet  and  Rousseau.  But  their  dis- 
tinction is  not  less  real  for  being  the  distinction  of 
cultivation  rather  than  altogether  native  and  abso- 
lute. It  is,  perhaps,  even  more  marked,  more  per- 
suasive, more  directly  associated  with  the  painter's 
aim  and  effect.  One  feels  that  they  are  familiar 
with  the  philosophy  of  art,  its  history  and  practice, 
that  they  are  articulate  and  eclectic,  that  for  being 
less  personal  and  powerful  their  horizon  is  less 
limited,  their  purely  intellectual  range,  at  all  events, 
and  in  many  cases  their  aesthetic  interest,  wider. 
They  have  more  the  cultivated  man's  bent  for  ex- 
perimentation, for  variety.  They  care  more  scru- 
pulously for  perfection,  for  form.  With  a  far 
inferior  sense  of  reality  and  far  less  felicity  in 
dealing  with  it,  their  sapient  skill  in  dealing  with 
the  abstractions  of  art  is  more  salient.  To  be  blind 
to  their  successful  handling  of  line  and  mass  and 
movement,  is  to  neglect  a  sense  of  refined  pleasure. 
To  lament  their  lack  of  poetry  is  to  miss  their  ad- 
168 


AMERICAN   ART   CRITICISM 

mirable  rhetoric;  to  regret  their  imperfect  feel- 
ing for  decorativeness  is  to  miss  their  delightful 
decorum." 

This  long  quotation  gives  a  glimpse,  not 
only  of  Mr.  Brownell's  powers,  of  his  pene- 
tration, firm  style,  faultless  syntax,  of  his 
clear  ideas  held  with  ease  and  measure,  but 
also  of  his  minor  failures  in  the  use  of  his 
own  manner.  "Sapient  skill,"  the  contrast 
of  " decorativeness  "  with  "delightful  deco- 
rum," are  each  unobjectionable;  but  before 
one  of  his  books  is  finished,  the  reader  sees 
enough  obvious  alliteration  to  make  him 
restless,  and  "  sapient "  is  one  of  the  words, 
like  "suave"  and  "puissant, "  which  appear 
with  an  insistence  that  is  depressing,  espe- 
cially when  variety  might  be  given  by  bet- 
ter words,  more  ruggedly  English.  Other 
words,  good  in  themselves,  less  suggestive 
of  French  reading,  words  which  are  fashion- 
able in  the  vocabulary  of  contemporary  cul- 
ture, are  worked  too  hard ;  among  them,  in 
their  special  applications  to  art,  "compos- 
ure," "reserve,"  "reticence,"  "stark,"  and 
"elegance."  In  judging  one  whose  powers 
are  shown  largely  in  the  selection  of  words, 
it  is  certainly  not  beside  the  mark  to  lay  some 
emphasis  on  these  little  flaws  of  execution. 
Robert  Louis  Stevenson,  perhaps  the  prince 
169 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

of  those  who  subdue  language  word  by  word, 
never  learned  to  conceal  his  art. 

Trifling  failures  in  this  kind  of  skill  raise 
the  larger  question  of  the  value  of  this  writ- 
ing, the  perfection  of  which  is  gained  by 
studying  the  details  of  language.  What  is 
the  style  worth  of  Stevenson  himself?  It  is 
a  broad  question,  insoluble  and  interesting, 
the  comparative  worth  of  the  style  of  culture, 
compared  to  the  style  that  is  a  man,  the 
style  of  inspiration.  Does  Stevenson  have 
anywhere  the  blood  that  flows  through  the 
easy,  unstudied  sentences  of  writers  whose 
minds  were  on  their  results,  not  on  their 
tools,  by  whom  words  were  used  almost  as 
unconsciously  as  letters?  Can  any  self- 
made  writer  stand  permanently  with  the 
spontaneous  ones,  with  Fielding,  with  Swift, 
De  Foe,  or  Scott  ?  In  criticism  the  answer 
is  less  certain;  but  even  there  the  great 
styles,  those  for  instance  of  Bacon,  Dryden, 
Thackeray,  Emerson,  Lamb,  seem  to  grow 
out  of  the  idea,  with  an  occasional  pause 
for  a  word,  not  out  of  a  preoccupation 
with  phrases.  The  consciousness  of  one's 
language  leads  naturally  to  an  attempt  to 
overload  the  epithet,  making  what  one  of 
my  friends  called  "adjective  literature." 
However,  this  emphasis  of  the  details  of 
170 


AMERICAN   ART   CRITICISM 

style  is  intelligent,  instructive,  fit  to  leaven 
our  present  crudity.  It  has  not  the  unity 
given  by  a  mastering  thought,  only  a  little 
piece  of  the  writer  goes  into  his  phrases, 
a  studied  fragment  of  his  conscious  thought, 
poor  by  necessity  in  comparison  to  the  style 
used  unconsciously  and  inevitably  as  a  man's 
native  tongue. 

Of  course  the  attempt  to  judge  a  writer 
by  standards  so  high  is  in  itself  praise,  and 
Mr.  Brownell  will  hardly  be  praised  too 
much.  "Poise,"  says  he,  "is  perhaps  the 
one  essential  element  of  criticism."  It  is 
at  least  an  essential,  and  one  which  he  has 
to  the  full.  Romantic  and  classic  art,  initi- 
ation and  tradition,  are  given  equal  justice 
by  him,  and  even  such  persons  as  Bougereau 
and  Cabanel  have  their  meed  of  apprecia- 
tion. Perhaps  the  thing  most  difficult  for 
him  to  weigh  objectively  is  crudity,  but 
"  French  Traits  "  almost  contents  one  who 
accepts  with  satisfaction  America  as  it  is. 
On  the  other  hand,  in  the  wide  range  of 
his  three  books,  there  is,  I  believe,  but  one 
infatuation,  —  his  admiration  for  the  sculptor 
Rodin.  In  this  artist  all  of  Mr.  Brownell's 
comparisons  must  be  with  the  giants  of 
thought,  mainly  with  Michelangelo;  and 
although  the  superiority  of  the  Frenchman 
171 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

is  not  stated,  as  Mr.  Brownell  never  decides 
the  relative  values  of  contrasted  styles,  the 
exposition  of  the  Frenchman's  art,  contrasted 
with  that  of  Michelangelo,  is  so  ardent  that 
it  is  a  solitary  break  in  the  sustained  judicial 
tone;  in  that  careful,  comprehensive  appre- 
ciation of  diverse  qualities  which  gives  value 
to  his  opinions  and  dignity  to  his  language. 
To  describe  his  point  of  view  more  narrowly, 
—  it  is  that  of  the  literary  man  of  intelli- 
gence; not  the  painter's,  by  any  means, 
although  touched  sometimes  with  studio  lan- 
guage; still  less  that  of  the  man  who  is  blind 
to  the  differences  between  the  standpoint  of 
the  painter  and  those  of  the  moralist  and 
poet ;  but  that  of  the  literary  man  in  a  fairer 
sense,  broad  enough  to  see  what  the  painter 
thinks,  what  the  many  kinds  of  spectators 
think,  and  personal  enough  to  know  what 
he  thinks  himself. 
1896. 


172 


AMERICAN   COSMOPOLI- 
TANISM 


VI 

AMERICAN   COSMOPOLI- 
TANISM 

AT  a  time  when  so  many  new  ideas  about 
the  humanities  are  flooding  America,  it  is  not 
surprising  that  among  our  ambitious  young 
men  of  the  first  generation  of  culture  are 
many  whose  intellectual  methods  show  more 
eagerness  than  measure.  With  no  traditions 
behind  them  they  do  not  realize  how  nec- 
essary are  humility,  repose,  and  care  to  sound 
ripening  of  the  perceptions  and  the  judgment. 
As  their  fathers  struggled  for  academic  edu- 
cation or  for  material  ease,  the  sons  make  a 
struggle  of  ideas  on  art.  They  over-empha- 
size what  they  get  hold  of,  from  a  deficient 
sense  of  permanent  values.  Though  this 
spectacle  has  been  seen  at  other  times,  per- 
haps never  before  was  so  large  a  mass  of  new 
ideas  thrown  to  so  hungry  a  public. 

The  men  of  whom  I  speak  are  more  occu- 
pied with  the  idea  of  enlightenment  than  with 
the  things  which  give  light.  Americans  give 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

too  much  importance  to  intellectual  things,  it 
is  frequently  said.  Riper  intelligence  puts 
less  emphasis  on  itself.  When  we  first  see 
beyond  others  about  us  we  are  dazzled  by  the 
idea  of  our  own  advancement.  This  often 
makes  us  set  ourselves  up  as  enemies  of  the 
Philistines  and  of  all  their  ways.  What  is 
known  to  all  or  felt  by  all  is  unimportant. 
Distinction  consists  in  seeing  and  believing 
novel  things. 

"  I  the  heir  of  all  the  ages 
In  the  foremost  files  of  time." 

Of  the  young  prophets  of  culture  whom  I 
know,  all  Americans,  some  living  in  Europe, 
some  by  necessity  in  America,  every  one 
thinks  that  the  only  art  of  to-day  is  French  or 
Japanese ;  that  there  has  never  been  any  art 
in  England ;  that  the  most  advanced  literature 
of  the  world  is  the  realism  of  the  younger 
men  in  Paris ;  that  there  is  much  less  beauty 
in  nature  than  in  art ;  that  work  in  any  un- 
artistic  employment  is  a  waste  of  life ;  and 
that  it  is  impossible  for  an  intelligent  man  to 
be  contented  in  America.  The  saying  that 
the  French  would  be  the  best  cooks  in  Europe 
if  they  had  any  butcher's  meat,  modified  by 
Mr.  Bagehot  into  the  aphorism  that  they 
would  be  the  best  writers  of  the  day  if  they 
176 


COSMOPOLITANISM 

had  anything  to  say,  applies  also  to  these 
critics  who  make  such  striking  theories  out 
of  so  little. 

Of  course  the  case  can  be  stated  more  sym- 
pathetically;  for  instance,  let  us  suppose  a 
youth  known  in  college  as  a  man  of  taste 
comes  back  from  some  years  in  Italy  to  go 
into  the  practice  of  a  profession.  His  work 
now  is  intellectual,  but  as  far  as  possible 
from  artistic;  and  he  had  cared  only  for 
artistic  things.  His  present  work  requires  en- 
ergy, attention  to  practical  details,  and  logic. 
Among  his  companions  he  finds  none  who 
have  his  instincts  and  his  training.  Beautiful 
surroundings,  friends  with  leisure  and  taste, 
art,  music,  literature,  had  seemed  necessities 
to  him.  To  adjust  himself  to  his  conditions 
here  and  be  happy  does  not  seem  possible. 
The  cities  have  less  art  than  European  cap- 
itals, and  repel  him  by  their  noise  and  lack 
of  sensuous  beauty.  Perhaps  he  chooses 
to  give  up  the  pursuit  of  happiness,  sink 
himself  in  work,  and  make  his  life  a  routine. 

His  case  is  not  an  easy  one,  but  it  may  be 
contrasted  with  that  of  a  young  girl  I  knew 
who  went  from  a  small  city  to  a  great  uni- 
versity and  won  a  reputation  as  a  writer,  a 
talker,  and  a  painter.  Her  friends  believed 
that  she  needed  only  opportunity  to  do  much 
12  I77 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

in  art.  Paris  was  a  paradise  to  her.  But  she 
never  went  there.  She  was  compelled  to  re- 
turn to  her  home,  where  there  is  no  art  and  no 
intelligent  society.  At  first  it  seemed  to  her 
a  moral  death.  Her  imagination  was  so  vital, 
however,  that  it  soon  began  to  enjoy  its  own 
power,  even  in  its  narrow  home.  The  girl 
who  had  dreamed  of  the  studios  of  Paris,  the 
conversation,  the  gayety,  the  freedom,  the 
art,  is  happy  now  with  nothing  but  what  she 
can  get  from  a  routine  home  life  and  child- 
like companions.  She  drives  about  the  streets 
and  looks  at  the  spectacle  of  life  as  it  is  in  the 
little  city.  She  takes  part  in  the  occupations 
of  society,  she  delights  in  seeing  people  move 
and  think,  as  she  delights  in  watching  fowls 
or  insects.  Perhaps  the  power  to  express  is 
dying  in  her;  she  cannot  tell,  though  she 
tries  to  keep  it  alive  for  the  possible  oppor- 
tunity. But  though  the  disappointment  is 
heavy-still,  life  itself  seems  the  great  thing  to 
her  now,  so  rich  in  its  barest  spots  that  it  is 
worth  all  one's  powers.  Excitement,  joy, 
fame,  are  gone  for  her,  perhaps,  but  a  deep 
seriousness  has  kept  her  happy.  Of  course, 
if  she  can,  she  will  take  the  other  goods,  — 
for  though  less,  they  are  additions ;  and  she 
knows  that  now  she  would  be  in  no  danger 
of  losing  the  essential  outlines  in  the  details. 
178 


COSMOPOLITANISM 

Such  a  reconciled  way  of  accepting  lim- 
ited opportunities  seems  to  some  who  have 
settled  permanently  abroad  perfunctory  and 
provincial.  It  would  not  do  to  draw  too 
radical  conclusions  from  a  score  of  examples; 
but  it  may  be  that  perfect  freedom  of  oppor- 
tunity weakens  as  many  as  it  develops. 
One  man  of  wealth,  with  some  taste  and  with 
no  talent,  bought  a  villa  in  Italy,  and  has 
never  returned  to  America.  His  whole 
horizon  seems  to  go  no  further  than  Italian 
art.  If  he  takes  a  walk  in  the  mountains,  he 
judges  the  beautiful  only  from  the  point  of 
view  of  its  suitability  to  the  painter.  The 
Alps  are  not  beautiful,  because  they  cannot 
be  painted.  A  scene  is  not  beautiful,  be- 
cause the  blue  of  the  lake  is  in  a  different 
key  from  the  blue  of  the  sky.  His  world  lies 
in  a  picture  frame.  Whenever  he  meets  an 
interesting  American,  he  tries  to  induce 
him  to  stay  in  Italy,  where  alone,  he  thinks, 
true  culture  can  be  acquired.  America,  he 
says,  is  in  the  dark  ages,  —  a  nation  of 
Chinamen.  Intellect  at  our  universities  is 
scholastic,  dry,  without  life.  Life  for  him 
is  Italian  history,  talk  about  painting,  the 
slang  of  an  art-world  in  which  he  is  an  out- 
sider, a  hanger-on,  a  new-comer.  The  real 
citizens  of  that  world,  it  need  hardly  be  said, 
179 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

have  no  such  narrowness.  The  talk,  the 
standards,  of  the  true  artist  are  not  obtru- 
sively artistic.  These  young  American 
prophets  of  expatriation  (there  are  many  of 
them)  are  in  striking  contrast  to  the  thing 
they  imitate,  though  they  impress  many  who 
cannot  understand  the  original.  The  real 
seer  of  the  beautiful,  who,  perhaps,  has 
painted  and  starved  in  many  lands,  settles 
almost  anywhere  and  becomes  happy.  New 
York  is  full  of  such  men.  They  find  beau- 
ties on  our  ugliest  streets,  which  the  pseudo- 
culture  of  their  imitators  could  not  see  in 
Naples  or  in  Paris. 

Among  the  most  exaggerated  of  the 
prophets  of  culture  by  one  path  only  are 
the  women.  Their  philosophy  is  likely  to 
be  even  further  from  life,  for  it  comes  often 
from  their  men  friends,  who  parody  it  from 
the  originals.  I  have  heard  a  number  of 
women,  living  about  the  cheaper  places  of 
Europe  on  small  incomes  or  the  lower  order 
of  hack  work,  solemnly  preaching  the  doc- 
trine that  "  life "  is  in  one  place  and  not 
in  another.  Of  course  it  is  the  rule  that 
those  who  have  come  from  the  narrowest  en- 
vironment are  the  fiercest  converts.  They 
furnish  many  rather  sad  pictures  of  the 
check  of  the  deep  instincts  of  their  sex 
180 


COSMOPOLITANISM 

for  the  painful  forcing  of  some  intellectual 
absurdities. 

We  see  the  expression  of  these  things  in 
journals  recently  founded  all  over  the  coun- 
try, which,  in  an  average  life  of  a  few  months, 
express  the  opinions  and  reveal  the  art  of  a 
few  young  men  who  think  they  are  ahead  of 
their  times.  Just  now  the  main  character- 
istic of  this  literature  is  that  it  suggests  as 
often  as  it  can  the  art  of  painting.  It  calls 
itself  by  the  name  of  a  color,  —  yellow,  green, 
purple,  gray.  Constant  use  is  made  of  the 
slang  of  art.  Indeed,  their  only  way  of 
appearing  artistic  seems  to  be  to  make  their 
writing  as  far  as  possible  remind  the  reader 
of  the  plastic  arts.  Art  is  ostentatiously 
opposed  to  everything  else,  especially  to 
scholarship,  morality,  and  industry.  The 
idea  seems  to  be  that  art  is  made  by  talking 
about  art,  or  by  talking  about  life  in  terms 
of  art.  Equally  noticeable  is  the  instinct 
that  in  making  one  special  quality  conspic- 
uous by  neglecting  others,  they  are  showing 
originality.  They  do  not  see  that  in  an 
artist  great  enough  to  give  a  large  man  the 
feeling  of  life  there  are  too  many  elements 
for  any  detail  to  be  conspicuous.  The  work 
of  this  artist  will  be  life-like,  commonplace, 
unless  seen  by  an  eye  to  which  common  life 
181 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

reveals  its  interests.  Edmond  de  Goncourt 
can  see  nothing  in  "The  Scandinavian 
Hamlet."  He  prefers  "Pere  Goriot,"  who 
is  newer,  he  thinks,  and  more  real.  Edmond 
de  Goncourt  is  an  admirable  example  of  the 
attitude  of  a  few  men  in  Paris  who  have 
largely  influenced  some  of  our  tawdry  litera- 
ture. In  one  of  his  journals  he  remarks 
sadly  that  in  a  certain  conversation  about 
abstract  things,  general  human  points  of  view, 
he  failed  to  shine;  and  he  asks  plaintively 
why  it  is  that  men  who  "  on  all  other  sub- 
jects "  find  original  things  to  say  are  in  these 
generalities  on  a  footing  with  the  rest  of  the 
world :  which  means  to  him,  flat.  Readers 
of  the  eight  volumes  of  the  journal  may 
smile  at  the  "all  other  subjects,"  but  it  is  at 
least  true  that  on  certain  narrow  topics  of 
which  few  persons  know  anything,  he  could 
feel  more  profound  than  he  could  on  subjects 
of  universal  human  interest.  His  test  of 
Shakspere,  by  the  way,  is  an  apt  one.  It 
does  not  condemn  a  man  that  he  does  not 
find  Hamlet  interesting.  Many  intelligent 
men  do  not.  Any  man,  however,  who  infers, 
from  his  lack  of  appreciation,  that  Shakspere 
is  not  a  great  artist,  is  deficient  in  critical 
intelligence  and  in  understanding  of  the 
value  of  evidence.  And  when  a  man  remarks 
182 


COSMOPOLITANISM 

that  Raphael,  Beethoven,  or  Shakspere,  was 
a  great  man  in  his  time,  but  that  the  world 
has  progressed,  and  that,  as  we  stand  on  the 
shoulders  of  our  predecessors,  the  Balzac  of 
this  century  sees  more  than  the  Shakspere  of 
two  centuries  earlier,  we  have  a  subject  for 
comedy.  That  any  critic  who  seriously 
treats  with  contempt  any  man  or  any  institu- 
tion that  has  a  high  place  in  the  general 
world  of  ideas  is  shallow,  an  avoider  and 
not  a  solver  of  questions  which  confront  a 
man  of  mature  culture  and  broad  mind,  is 
almost  axiomatic.  When  we  hear  so  many 
critics  to-day  expressing  scorn  of  whole 
nations,  —  saying  of  England,  perhaps,  that 
she  has  no  art,  of  Germany  that  she  has  only 
dull  learning,  of  America  that  she  is  Philis- 
tine ;  when  we  see  these  critics  surrounded 
by  groups  of  followers,  do  we  not  wish,  with 
some  reason,  that  we  had  a  Moliere  to-day? 
What  a  play  he  could  make  of  "  Les  Critiques 
Ridicules;"  or  of  "L'Ecole  des  ^Esthetes," 
or  of  "  L'Americain  Malgre  Lui.  ' 

It  would  be  unfair,  however,  to  leave  the 
impression  that  all  Americans  who  dislike 
their  country  are  small.  It  is  probably  true 
that  any  man  who  is  capable  of  sinking 
deeply  into  life  has  often  a  strong  feeling  for 
the  instincts  and  prejudices  of  his  race ;  but 
183 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

it  is  not  less  true  that  some  men  of  genuine 
intellectual  passion  find  other  things  out- 
weigh these  sympathies,  and  live  with  most 
happiness  and  fullest  growth  in  foreign  lands. 
But  men  of  whom  this  is  true  are  usually  not 
the  ones  whose  feelings  about  America  are 
acid.  The  bitter  berating  of  any  country  as 
Philistine  is  usually  the  mark  of  shallowness. 
A  New  York  artist  not  long  ago  was  speaking 
of  an  acquaintance  who  had  been  telling  how 
he  hated  America  and  wanted  to  get  back  to 
Europe.  "  Think  of  it,"  exclaimed  the  artist, 
who  was  born  in  Europe  and  loves  it,  "  he  has 
lived  in  New  York  thirty  years,  and  he  hates 
America !  "  That  is  a  whole  philosophy.  The 
person  who  can  live  in  a  great  city  so  long 
and  not  find  beauty  and  meaning  is  a  small 
person.  A  strong  man  may  say  that  he 
would  prefer  something  else,  but  that  will 
not  keep  him  from  feeling  the  fulness  of  life 
where  he  is. 

Even  to-day  a  good  deal  of  blame  for  the 
failure  of  many  of  their  graduates  to  adapt 
themselves  readily  to  their  occupations  is  put 
upon  the  universities,  not  by  unthinking  Phil- 
istines, but  by  men  of  comparative  liberality. 
Of  course  the  days  when  active  men  in  general 
looked  with  entire  distrust  on  college  gradu- 
ates are  gone ;  but  many  men  who  think  that 
184 


COSMOPOLITANISM 

a  college  education  is  almost  essential  to-day, 
believe  its  advantages  are  partly  offset  by  the 
impetus  it  gives  to  this  kind  of  discontent 
with  our  conditions.  It  is  undoubtedly  true 
that  the  prominence  of  the  intelligent  dilet- 
tante spirit  often  makes  it  harder  to  take  up  a 
burden  in  the  world.  But  to  look  upon  this 
as  a  serious  misfortune  is  hardly  more  intelli- 
gent than  the  old-time  suspicion  of  all  college 
training.  The  youth  who  for  several  years 
had  roamed  unfettered,  talking  art  and  litera- 
ture, studying  what  he  liked,  dreaming  of 
distant  scenes,  is  often  for  a  few  years  after 
graduation  an  unhappy  creature  and  a  forlorn 
spectacle;  but  when  he  does  turn  from  his 
dreams  of  other  things  to  an  effort  to  find 
beauty  and  interest  in  what  is  forced  upon 
him,  he  finds  more  than  he  would  have  done 
without  the  experience. 

Exactly  the  same  thing  is  true,  probably, 
of  foreign  training  that  is  true  of  the  influence 
of  the  colleges.  The  men  who  have  seen 
doubt  have  in  the  end  the  clearest  faith. 
Many  of  our  young  teachers,  for  instance, 
who  are  furnishing  the  hard  work  as  well  as 
the  guidance  in  the  educational  changes  being 
made  in  all  of  our  American  colleges  are  Har- 
vard men  who  for  a  time  after  graduation 
wandered  about  the  Louvre,  or  drank  beer  in 
'85 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

Berlin,  or  idled  sweetly  in  Italy,  dreading  the 
need  of  returning.  It  is  true  also  of  some  of 
our  ablest  young  lawyers  and  journalists,  and 
of  men  in  other  occupations,  —  though  un- 
doubtedly the  men  who  get  this  spirit  strong 
upon  them  and  cannot  earn  a  living  in  any 
of  the  arts  are  more  likely  to  go  into  law, 
journalism,  or  teaching  than  into  any  other 
work. 

Americans  are  accused  of  being  superficial 
in  education  and  in  the  conduct  of  life.  Prob- 
ably the  men  who  will  remove  this  reproach 
are  not  those  who  take  instinctively  to  the 
methods  and  the  point  of  view  that  grew  out 
of  the  rapid  settling  of  a  raw  country,  but 
those  who  feel  deeply  the  attraction  of  the 
slower,  riper  thoughts  and  feelings  of  the 
older  countries ;  and  among  those,  of  course, 
the  ones  who  after  a  time  are  able  to  use  this 
insight  on  the  actual  material  about  them,  — 
not  to  bring  foreign  culture  here,  like  a  grown 
plant,  for  it  is  not  transplantable,  but  to  get 
its  seed,  to  use  their  knowledge  of  foreign 
things  as  one  element  of  a  new  perception 
of  their  environment.  Goethe's  well-known 
statement  that  he  never  deemed  any  truth  his 
until  he  had  himself  conquered  it  is  applicable 
everywhere.  It  is  well  for  us  to  take  what 
information  we  can  from  any  source;  but 
186 


before  it  will  do  us  good  we  must  learn  to 
find  it  over  again  in  the  things  which  we 
see  and  work  with.  Our  deepest  knowledge 
of  life  must  be  our  first-hand  perceptions, 
must  come  from  daily  sights  and  experiences. 
The  man  who  lives  in  New  York  and  thinks 
in  London  or  in  Rome  guesses  at  life. 

The  question,  of  course,  remains,  whether 
one  can  say  that  every  artist,  or  every  student 
of  life,  will  grow  best  where  he  was  planted. 
The  young  artist  who  wishes  a  mass  of  im- 
pressions and  instructions  from  Europe  only 
to  come  back  and  spend  a  life  in  trying  to 
understand  from  the  inside  the  New  England 
people,  has  a  truth  that  is  vital;  but  is  it 
universal  ?  It  is  one  thing  to  say,  "  If  you 
must  return,  you  get  most  by  putting  your 
heart  and  mind  into  your  surroundings."  It 
is  another  thing  to  say,  "  Though  you  have 
the  opportunity  to  live  in  any  place  you 
choose,  wisdom  orders  you  to  live  in  your 
native  land." 

Though  the  extreme  position  is  taken  ,in- 
stinctively  by  many  intelligent  Americans,  it 
can  hardly  stand  the  bald  statement.  One 
may  argue :  "  The  cosmopolitan  is  on  the 
outside  of  things  everywhere ;  he  knows  a 
great  many  things  that  are  not  worth  know- 
ing ;  his  knowledge  and  his  instincts  are  not 
187 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

in  harmony ;  therefore  he  has  no  fundamental 
insight."  Another  may  call  this  provincial  or 
mystical.  He  may  say :  "  It  is  as  absurd  to 
make  such  divisions  by  countries  as  it  would 
be  by  counties.  The  more  widely  one  sees 
the  world,  the  more  deeply  he  understands 
it."  Each  generalization  must  be  untrue  for 
some.  Perhaps  neither  in  its  extreme  form 
is  true  for  many. 

The  question  as  applied  to  artists  often 
ends,  in  discussions  among  young  Ameri- 
cans, in  an  issue  on  the  case  of  Mr.  Henry 
James.  He  is  the  favorite  example  of  an 
American  cosmopolitan.  Some  who  like  his 
work  say  that,  however  delicate  and  skilful  it 
may  be,  it  is  not  large  or  important,  because 
it  is  remote ;  it  deals  with  no  instincts  shared 
by  large  masses  of  people ;  it  is  the  talk  of  a 
man  who  has  floated  about,  touching  various 
societies,  sinking  into  none,  and  recording, 
therefore,  nothing  but  a  fringe,  the  minor 
differences  of  the  outside,  gaining  none  of 
the  rich  color  that  so  subtle  and  so  sensitive 
a  mind  would  have  drawn  from  a  life  of 
natural  responsibilities  and  prejudices.  The 
answer  is  to  take  issue  on  the  facts.  Mr. 
James,  says  the  cosmopolitan,  has  a  more 
real  insight,  a  fairer  judgment,  for  his  lack  of 
attachment.  The  other  attitude  is  partisan ; 
188 


COSMOPOLITANISM 

it  is  made  intense  by  its  lack  of  perspective ; 
it  is  passionate  because  it  is  narrow.  The 
large  mind,  unprejudiced  and  serene,  chooses 
its  goods  from  all  the  world  and  its  friends 
from  all  mankind. 

Obviously  it  is  an  individual  matter.  Mr. 
James  may  have  done  his  best  work  with 
the  life  he  has  led,  as  Emerson  may  have 
done  his  best  by  the  opposite  course.  Mr. 
Whistler  may  be  living  under  the  most  favor- 
able circumstances  as  surely  as  is  Mr.  Winslow 
Homer.  Any  sweeping  rule  is  inadequate  to 
the  facts.  One  can  perhaps  say  little  more 
than  that  a  man  working  his  life  out  fully 
either  way  will  have  no  impulse  either  to 
scorn  or  to  envy  the  other  method. 

Granting  all  this,  however,  granting  that 
some  individuals  will  do  better  away  from 
home,  the  fact  remains  to  move  our  imagina- 
tions, that  when  our  greatest  artists  come  they 
will  be  no  exceptions  to  the  rule  which  has 
been  illustrated  by  the  other  nations  of  the 
world.  Probably  these  artists  will  come  the 
sooner  for  any  culture  that  leads  our  young 
men  to  study  deeply  real  life  about  them,  — 
to  rejoice,  like  the  strong  artist,  in  fresh 
fields.  A  deep  enough  understanding  will 
bring  literature  and  art  out  of  the  millions 
of  people  of  all  races  crowded  into  our  great 
189 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

cities.  To  be  a  great  artist,  a  man  must  know 
his  world  so  intimately  that  he  does  not  ex- 
press it  on  purpose.  He  does  not  go  to  work 
to  give  the  character  of  his  people  or  his  town. 
He  talks  about  the  simple,  universal  subjects, 
and  his  environment  is  given  inevitably,  with- 
out conscious  effort,  in  every  line  he  writes. 
The  style  is  not  the  man  only;  it  is  the 
country,  the  race.  To  this  height,  to  the 
largest  poetry,  cosmopolitanism  has  never 
reached.  The  constant  record  of  compari- 
sons is  a  slight  thing  before  the  work  of  the 
national  artist,  steeped  in  the  color  of  a  race, 
profoundly  conscious  of  definite  social  and 
political  conditions  as  realities,  not  as  spec- 
tacles. It  is  a  good  education,  the  cosmo- 
politan training  and  instinct,  a  good  influence 
for  us,  a  refinement,  a  stimulant ;  but  most  of 
us  who  cannot  have  it  should  not  take  the 
deprivation  as  an  essential  one.  Moreover, 
and  more  important  from  the  general  point 
of  view  if  not  from  that  of  the  individual, 
the  most  interesting  men  are  not  made  by 
cosmopolitan  training.  They  grow  in  the 
soil. 
1896. 


190 


HENRY  JAMES 


VII 

HENRY   JAMES 

THE  ironical  attitude,  according  to  Mr.  Henry 
James,  is  the  attitude  of  the  artist;  an  opinion 
which  may  well  be  startling  until  one  learns 
that  the  artist  is  one  thing  and  the  poet  its 
opposite.  With  irony,  in  his  own  sense,  Mr. 
James  is  impregnated.  The  unusual  shadings 
given  to  words,  the  complicated  and  facile 
syntax,  the  broken  sentences  in  dialogue,  that 
suggest  a  shrug,  the  frequent  French,  the  ir- 
relevant parentheses,  the  completions  that  are 
so  close  to  repetitions,  —  all  these  have  the 
airiness  of  irresponsibility  about  them.  Mr. 
James  does  not  crash  into  the  heart  of  a 
thought  with  a  noun.  He  hovers  about  it, 
pricks  it  here,  with  delicacy,  then  there,  so 
near  that  sometimes  here  and  there  seem  like 
one  point.  The  fineness  of  his  distinctions, 
their  abundance,  and  the  apparent  ease  with 
which  they  are  dropped,  contribute  much  to 
our  sense  of  the  futility  of  the  world  he  is 
describing;  partly  because  the  world  is  so 
13  193 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

blind  to  all  this,  partly  because  at  first  these 
delicate  touches  seem  to  create  a  world  all 
surface,  a  soap-bubble,  as  it  were,  in  which 
familiar  things  are  refracted  into  shapes  at 
once  fantastic  and  persuasive.  Imagine  a 
young  American,  crude,  matter-of-fact,  and 
rather  bored  by  his  crudities  and  literalness, 
meeting  for  the  first  time  this  spirit.  Suppose 
him  just  enough  irritated  at  and  balked  by 
the  rigid  world  he  knows  to  be  ready  to 
attack  it,  but  weaponless.  "  Roderick  Hud- 
son "  falls  into  his  hand.  He  settles  back  on 
his  lounge  before  he  has  read  ten  lines,  with 
the  excitement  of  feeling  that  he  has  found 
the  needed  secret  and  that  it  is  a  long  and  full 
one.  He  has  read  Emerson  before,  and  has 
sneered  at  the  plastic  arts.  Before  he  has 
read  a  week  he  longs  to  see  the  Madonna  of 
the  Chair,  because  Henry  James  has  mixed 
it  in  with  his  universe  by  some  flitting  adjec- 
tive. He  longs  to  see  Florence  and  Rome, 
because  Christina  and  Rowland  yawned  and 
talked  and  influenced  and  came  to  nothing 
there.  His  whole  thought  takes  a  back- 
ground that  he  believed  foreign  to  it.  There 
is  a  world  that  laughs  at  the  limitations  and 
rigidity  that  annoyed  him  —  that  is  gay,  intel- 
lectual, unproselyting ;  that  is,  the  attractive 
people  are  all  this,  and  the  Philistines  are 
194 


HENRY   JAMES 

simply  funny  and  unimportant.  He  knows 
now  more  clearly  what  he  wants  to  see  and 
be.  He  wants  to  see  people  whose  divisions 
of  the  world  are  not  hampering,  and  he  wants 
to  be  an  ironical  and  unprejudiced  observer. 
His  Emerson  goes  on  to  the  shelf,  marked 
abstract  and  provincial.  Instead  he  buys 
photographs  of  Italian  paintings,  studies  at- 
lases, plans  a  trip  to  Europe,  and  reads  Me"ri- 
mee  and  Turgenieff. 

For  Mr.  James  is  not  all  the  fascinating  and 
cultivated  satirist.  There  are  forms  built  of 
the  mass  of  apparently  surface  touches  that  are 
adequate  expressions  of  the  deepest  and  most 
lasting  experiences.  Though  the  author  was 
in  each  sentence  of  the  book,  we  realize  at  the 
end  of  the  thick  volume  that  he  was  not  all 
there.  The  detail  was  deliciously  redolent  of 
a  certain  point  of  view ;  the  whole  that  gradu- 
ally appears  is  deeply  typical  of  life,  with 
much  of  its  mystery.  To  quote  one  of  the 
author's  stories :  "  He  lived  once  more  into 
his  story  and  was  drawn  down,  as  by  a  siren's 
hand,  to  where,  in  the  dim  under-world  of 
fiction,  the  great,  glazed  tank  of  art,  strange, 
silent  subjects  float.  He  recognized  his  mo- 
tive and  surrendered  to  his  talent." 

Of  course  there  are  intelligent  readers  for 
whom  Mr.  James's  work  seems  almost  frivo- 
'95 


LITERARY  STATESMEN 

lous.  Those  who  are  literal,  inelastic,  limited 
to  set  classifications  and  distinctions,  find  him 
remote,  unreal,  indefinite,  inconclusive.  They 
say  that  by  nature  he  is  a  psychologist  or  a 
critic,  no  novelist;  that  in  a  kind  of  expres- 
sion where  he  would  be  forced  to  speak  his 
meaning  he  would  be  valuable.  What  they 
call  the  meaning  they  want  put  directly  and 
explicitly.  A  world  which  is  not  obviously 
sifted  for  them,  which  is  all  one  lump  of 
vague  reality,  the  end  of  which  is  to  create 
with  any  methods,  be  they  more  usually  seen 
in  the  essay,  the  novel,  or  any  other  form, 
the  impression  corresponding  to  that  the  ac- 
tual world  makes  on  us,  with  its  solidity,  its 
complexity,  its  irrationality,  —  such  a  piece 
of  expression  is  meaningless  to  them.  And 
to  other  minds,  more  vital  and  less  ingenuous, 
it  is  meaningless  too.  Though  in  its  most 
general  features  the  world  they  see  is  the  one 
Mr.  James  paints,  they  do  not  like  his  details, 
they  do  not  enjoy  the  flavor  of  his  mind,  and 
they  therefore  cannot  go  through  the  many 
pages  to  get  the  general  plan.  The  author 
himself  believes  that  his  novels  were  felt  by 
Ivan  Turgenieff  to  be  hardly  food  for  men. 
The  elaboration,  the  thousand  slight  touches 
that  make  the  general  effect,  bore  such  men. 
The  work  seems  to  them  embroidery.  They 
196 


HENRY   JAMES 

want  more  directness,  simplicity,  force.  Tur- 
genieff  has  an  awful  fatalism  of  his  own,  but  it 
is  too  simple  and  too  strenuous  to  come  within 
our  definition  of  irony.  In  the  slang  of  the 
day,  Mr.  James  is  too  "  elegant "  to  come  near 
to  the  man  whom  he  calls  the  poet,  as  he  does 
Turgenieff.  But  to  his  friends  reason  dressed 
in  banter  is  more  amiable,  law  is  lighter  when 
it  speaks  in  the  tones  of  irresponsibility.  One 
who  sees  his  matter  as  clearly  as  his  manner 
can  hardly  fail  to  feel  that  he  is  distinguished 
by  range  as  surely  as  by  precision,  by  endur- 
ance as  surely  as  by  acuteness ;  that  his  in- 
sight is  as  extensive  as  it  is  fine,  and  his  art  is 
equal  to  its  expression.  This  is  not  to  deny 
that  the  variety  of  persons,  scenes,  or  situa- 
tions which  he  handles  is  rather  slight.  It  is 
to  assert,  however,  that  with  the  illustrations 
he  does  use  he  sets  forth  adequately,  com- 
pletely, some  essential  springs  of  the  mind. 
Though  his  people  and  his  scenes  have  not 
the  profusion  of  contrast  that  life  has,  that 
some  artists  have,  the  relations  are  there  in 
their  proper  proportions,  only  in  a  shorter 
scale. 

A  limitation  in  means  similar  to  this  lack 

of  exuberance  is  an  inability  to  paint  vividly 

the  physical  world.     One  understands  —  feels 

—  the  surroundings,  but  he  hardly  sees  them. 

197 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

The  most  striking  of  his  descriptions  have 
something  the  air  of  feats.  It  is  difficult  to 
illustrate  a  negative,  but  here  is  a  sentence  in 
which  the  picturesque  is  tried  for :  — 

"There  is  a  certain  evening  that  I  count  as  virtu- 
ally a  first  impression  —  the  end  of  a  wet,  black 
Sunday,  twenty  years  ago,  about  the  first  of  March. 
There  had  been  an  earlier  vision,  but  it  had  turned 
gray,  like  faded  ink,  and  the  occasion  I  speak  of 
was  a  fresh  beginning," 

Perhaps  the  following  description  of  the  first 
appearance  of  Christina  Light  will  show  how 
he  just  misses  the  visual :  — 

"  A  pair  of  extraordinary  dark  blue  eyes,  a  mass 
of  dusky  hair  over  a  low  forehead,  a  blooming  oval 
of  perfect  purity,  a  flexible  lip  just  touched  with 
disdain,  the  step  and  carriage  of  a  tired  princess,  — 
these  were  the  general  features  of  his  vision." 

The  clothing  of  the  personages  and  their 
physique  seem  described  with  effort,  and  so 
do  the  landscape,  the  room,  or  whatever  the 
setting  may  be.  The  author  is  not  to  a  large 
degree  a  man  for  whom  the  visible  world 
exists,  in  the  sense  of  Gautier's  famous 
phrase.  Its  interest  is  adjective  mostly :  the 
interest  of  its  effect  on  persons  first,  and, 
second,  an  interest  of  suggestion.  It  is  rich 
198 


HENRY   JAMES 

in  analogy.  Mr.  James  feels  its  importance, 
and  he  usually  gives  its  effect  adequately,  but 
sometimes  one  feels  that  his  work  is  weakened 
by  rather  more  than  is  necessary  of  direct 
description  of  the  environment;  one  is  disap- 
pointed at  the  unconvincing  touch.  For,  to 
the  reader  who  is  best  fitted  to  appreciate 
Mr.  James,  this  literal  setting  is  not  neces- 
sary. The  atmosphere  is  created  without  it; 
it  comes  from  what  the  personages  do  and  say, 
and  from  the  author's  manner  of  talking  about 
them.  The  environment  is  a  great  bully  with 
some  of  the  best  literary  workmen  of  recent 
times.  It  is  a  very  important  element  of  art, 
but  it  does  n't  need  to  be  labelled.  In  the 
main  Mr.  James  is  free  from  this  exaggera- 
tion. He  has  a  rare,  distinguished  genius, 
and  it  is  the  genius  of  an  artist,  but  the  artist 
is  a  psychologist.  The  idea  is  what  gives  life 
to  his  work ;  the  personal,  the  abstract  idea ; 
though  this  idea  does  not  exist  apart  from  its 
embodiment,  and  is  described,  necessarily, 
when  it  is  most  adequately  described,  in 
terms  of  its  external  expression,  —  it  is  the 
side  of  final  interest.  "  A  psychological  rea- 
son is,  to  my  imagination,  an  object  adorably 
pictorial,"  says  Mr.  James ;  and  the  reverse 
is  as  true :  when  a  pictorial  object  interests 
him,  his  interest  is  delightfully  psychological. 
199 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

One  who  feels  this  inseparability  of  form  and 
idea  in  Mr.  James  is  rather  supported  by  the 
discovery  that  his  father  was  a  logician  at  once 
acute  and  picturesque,  and  that  his  brother  is 
a  studied  psychologist  who  connects  the  ordi- 
nary matter  of  his  science  with  the  mixed 
stream  of  life  with  uncommon  subtlety  and 
with  uncommon  definiteness,  seeming  at  once 
psychologist  and  logician,  scientist  and  poet. 
One  is  pleased  also  to  read  that  at  the  age  of 
seven  Mr.  Henry  James  lay  on  the  hearth  rug 
and  studied  "  Punch,"  and  that  he  longed 
to  know  the  life  suggested  by  the  pictures. 
There  is  nothing  told  us  of  the  child's  love 
for  the  lines  and  colors  of  nature.  It  is 
beauty  that  is  a  human  expression  that 
interests  him;  that  is  information  about 
human  character.  There  is  no  truancy  in 
the  mind.  It  sticks  to  the  fact  from  the 
beginning.  There  are  no  fables  and  fairy 
stories  for  it,  no  fancy,  no  forms  that  are 
not  fact;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  the  young 
psychologist  is  an  artist,  and  all  his  facts  have 
form.  Later  he  has  said  that  he  can  imag- 
ine no  object  in  weaving  together  imaginary 
events  except  the  representation  of  life.  The 
child's  mind  was  as  loyal  to  the  same  object. 
To  explain  what  is  meant  by  saying  that, 
while  everything  is  expression,  everything  is 
200 


HENRY   JAMES 

also  form  to  Mr.  James,  may,  after  one  has 
denied  him  any  remarkable  eye  for  line  and 
color,  be  rather  difficult.  Of  the  truth  of 
the  proposition,  however,  there  can  be  little 
doubt.  He  says  somewhere  that  the  most 
definite  thing  about  an  emotion  is  its  surface. 
The  metaphor  is  at  once  baffling  and  convinc- 
ing, as  his  metaphors  are  likely  to  be.  The 
thing  I  wish  to  emphasize  is  that  it  is  his 
perception  of  the  shapes  of  the  moral  world 
that  gives  him  his  distinguished  value.  In 
this  bit,  for  instance,  there  is  a  fair  visual 
image,  slight,  however,  compared  to  the 
picturesqueness  one  feels. 

"  I  always  left  him  in  a  state  of  '  intimate '  excite- 
ment, with  a  feeling  that  all  sorts  of  valuable  things 
had  been  suggested  to  me  ;  the  condition  in  which 
a  man  swings  his  cane  as  he  walks,  leaps  lightly 
over  gutters,  and  then  stops,  for  no  reason  at  all, 
to  look,  with  an  air  of  being  struck,  into  a  shop- 
window  where  he  sees  nothing." 

These  powers  and  these  limitations  some- 
times lead  one  to  wonder  why  Mr.  James  is 
not  more  a  critic  and  less  a  novelist.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  most  of  his  power  is  in  his 
fiction,  and  the  greater  part  in  his  long 
novels.  He  needs  time  for  a  multitude  of 
his  light  touches  to  give  to  his  picture 

201 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

a  convincing  simplicity.  The  best  short 
stories,  plays,  and  essays  have  been  made  in 
bolder,  shorter  strokes.  In  the  drama,  he 
not  only  misses  the  living  touch,  but  loses 
his  own  charm.  His  dialogue  in  becoming 
shorter  becomes  stiff,  instead  of  becoming 
intense.  Directness  and  simplicity  of  feel- 
ing are  outside  of  Mr.  James's  power  of 
representation.  There  is  a  scene  in  "  The 
Tragic  Muse  "  in  which  Julia  takes  Nick's 
head  in  her  hands  and  kisses  it.  It  makes 
the  reader  close  his  teeth,  as  at  a  false  note. 
He  feels  that  the  airy  world,  so  parallel  to 
the  real  world,  so  representative  of  it,  is 
shattered  when  such  material  is  forced  into 
it.  The  comedy  of  his  universe  is  "the 
smile  of  the  soul,"  as  Beyle  said  of  French 
wit,  and  his  tragedy  is  the  sigh  of  the  soul. 
The  laugh  and  the  throb  are  not  in  his  scale; 
and  the  smile  of  the  body  and  the  sigh  of 
the  body  are  not  there,  either.  His  art,  a 
firm  and  rounded  representation  of  life,  is 
no  direct  presentation  of  it,  no  copy.  His 
dialogue  may  improve  in  plausibility  and 
flexibility,  but  not  so  much  that  one  cannot 
feel  that  he  is  describing  a  world  that  his 
imagination  never  saw;  that  he  has  seen 
the  astral  bodies  of  people  and  seen  them 
static,  in  certain  relations,  to  be  described 
202 


HENRY  JAMES 

by  him  in  long  paragraphs  of  his  own  deli- 
cate observations,  saying  comparatively  little 
themselves  —  speaking  only  for  confirmation, 
as  it  were;  that  this  fairy  world  of  his,  con- 
taining in  it  the  essence  of  the  interest  of 
life  for  many,  will  not  for  any  be  visible  to 
the  outer  eye,  with  fleshly  bodies  and  tangi- 
ble clothes,  furniture,  relations  of  actual 
space. 

In  criticism  he  is  less  successful  than  in 
fiction,  for  reasons  other  than  this  inability 
to  give  the  direct  blow.  He  repeats,  some- 
times grossly.  A  number  of  times  he  says 
without  variation  that,  however  flat  his  joke, 
du  Maurier's  picture  has  its  unfailing  charm ; 
even  the  language  scarcely  changes.  It  may 
be  that  part  of  this  iteration  is  due  to  sym- 
pathy, to  the  desire  to  make  the  length  of 
his  comment  equal  his  interest,  a  desire 
which,  when  his  attitude  toward  his  subject 
is  very  simple,  is  disastrous.  Much  could 
be  learned  by  comparing  this  essay  with 
MerimeVs  criticism  of  his  friends,  where 
the  critic  is  as  brief  as  he  is  when  he  carves 
his  stories.  Mr.  James  has  no  power  of 
sacrifice.  Effort,  effort,  always  effort,  he 
says,  is  the  secret  of  success  for  all  ambi- 
tious workers  in  the  field  of  art.  It  is  a 
secret  that  sometimes  leads  him  astray,  for 
203 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

he  neglects  other  conflicting  secrets ;  he  fails 
to  rest  and  he  fails  to  throw  away  duplicates. 
"You  cannot,"  he  says  to  the  young  writer, 
"take  too  many  notes."  Without  quibbling 
over  the  metaphor,  one  may  believe  it  possi- 
ble to  take  notes  too  constantly  and  with  too 
much  strain,  and  certainly  possible  to  use 
too  many  of  one's  notes. 

Another  quality,  which  is  one  of  the 
merits  of  the  stories,  — delicacy,  — becomes 
aggressive  and  turns  into  a  defect,  squeam- 
ishness,  in  some  of  the  essays.  "  Be  gener- 
ous and  delicate,"  Mr.  James  says  to  the 
young  writer,  "and  then,  in  the  vulgar 
phrase,  go  in ! "  That  parenthetical  apology 
for  colloquialism  occurs  rather  too  often.  It 
begins  to  savor  of  literalness.  We  should 
like  to  have  rather  more  taken  for  granted. 
We  feel  too  insistent  an  air  of  distance,  of  fine 
breeding,  even  of  condescension.  We  like 
to  see  one  artist  strictly  bounded  by  the 
delicacy  of  his  tastes;  but  we  wish  the  critic 
to  know  that  it  may  be  another  artist's 
strength  to  be  crude  or  naked.  The  instinct 
of  privacy,  for  instance,  is  something  upon 
which  Mr.  James's  taste  absolutely  insists. 
He  cannot  talk  long  enough  or  severely 
enough  about  the  publication  by  M.  Edmond 
de  Goncourt  of  an  account  of  his  brother's 
204 


HENRY   JAMES 

mental  wreck,  and  of  the  nervous  disease  of 
both  of  them,  or  of  the  publication  of  Flau- 
bert's letters,  and  he  interjects  his  respect 
for  privacy  on  all  occasions.  It  is  safe  to 
say  he  does  not  feel  imaginatively  Balzac's 
racy  and  unquotable  illustration  of  his  ideal 
of  openness.  This  queasiness  might  be 
parodied  by  the  story  of  a  man  who  could 
not  believe  that  athletes  are  sincerely  with- 
out any  feeling  of  shame  when  they  run,  bare 
to  the  knee,  through  the  city  streets.  The 
critic  must  not  insist  too  solemnly  on  his 
view  of  etiquette,  if  the  world  is  to  listen  to 
him. 

The  one  fault  of  the  essays  still  to  be  men- 
tioned is  comparatively  trifling,  and,  like  the 
others,  akin  to  a  virtue,  to  the  originality  of 
Mr.  James's  choice  of  words,  —  a  virtue  par- 
ticularly apt  in  a  writer  whose  end  is  exact 
and  fine  discrimination ;  for  in  words,  as  in  ob- 
jects, familiarity  dulls  our  vision,  and  of  two 
words  expressing  a  shade  with  equal  accuracy 
the  rarer  is  the  one  that  Mr.  James  always 
chooses.  It  is  one  of  his  methods  of  sharpen- 
ing his  reader's  mind  and  keeping  fresh  his 
attention.  His  fault  is  that  he  narrows  his 
vocabulary  by  overworking  his  fresh  and  apt 
words.  He  not  only  sacrifices  variety  of 
phrase ;  he  sometimes  lets  a  word  try  for  an 
205 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

idea  that  a  more  familiar  term  would  hit  more 
precisely.  What  essay  can  you  read  through 
without  finding  "  mitigated,"  "  casual,"  "  in- 
veterate," and  other  adjectives  that  have  driven 
all  rivals  from  the  field  and  gained  themselves 
a  factotum  air?  They  are  delicious  at  first, 
and  finally  flat. 

Perhaps,  after  all,  however,  this  last  word 
is  unfair.  It  may  be  that  the  weaknesses  of 
this  inclusive,  subtle,  contemporary  spirit  are 
rooted  in  its  strength.  If  so,  it  would  be 
silly  to  object.  It  may  be  that  what  looks 
like  queasiness  of  taste  to  an  outsider  is  a  part 
of  the  elegance,  and  that  what  looks  like  flip- 
pancy is  only  the  more  radical  manifestation  of 
the  subtlety.  It  is,  of  course,  only  apprecia- 
tion that  we  seek,  and  if  in  the  world  of  a 
writer  whom  we  are  studying  certain  details 
which  do  not  please  us  are  an  organic  part  of 
that  world  there  is  no  more  to  be  said.  In 
this  case,  fortunately,  it  is  of  small  importance 
whether  these  particular  characteristics  be 
spots  on  a  bright  art  or  features  of  it,  for 
they  are  so  slight  that  they  are  scarcely 
visible  in  a  general  view  of  the  work  that 
Mr.  James  has  done,  —  a  work  of  equal  value 
to  the  detached  student  of  life  and  to  the 
sympathizer  with  special  human  progress. 
Standing  alike  in  the  world  of  art  and  in  the 
206 


HENRY   JAMES 

world  of  sympathy,  he  has  been  the  interpreter 
of  each  to  the  other  with  equal  fairness  if  not 
with  equal  love.  The  breadth  of  the  impres- 
sion of  life  that  can  be  got  from  his  books  is 
due  to  this  broad  stand,  covering  two  points 
of  view  as  far  apart  as  any:  the  standpoint  of 
the  man  to  whom  life  is  a  thing  to  be  lived, 
with  emotion  and  prejudice,  and  the  stand- 
point of  the  man  to  whom  it  is  a  lot  of  lines 
and  shades  that  can  be  combined  into  attrac- 
tive and  representative  surfaces.  The  literal 
attitude  is  to  Mr.  James  apparently  the  more 
pathetic,  and  the  artistic  or  symbolic  one  the 
more  distinguished.  He  himself  is  intimate 
with  both,  and  in  his  novels  the  two  natures, 
each  in  many  grades,  are  kept  face  to  face, 
and  each  is  shown  as  it  seems  to  itself  and  as 
it  seems  to  the  other.  Therefore  to  us  Anglo- 
Saxons  he  has  been  an  education  that  we 
needed,  for  the  artistic  attitude  (in  the  present 
sense  of  the  unmoral,  form-loving  attitude)  is 
particularly  hard  for  us  to  see.  Closely  allied 
to  this  conflict  is  the  contrast  between  culture 
and  primitiveness  which  he  has  painted  so 
carefully  and  so  often  in  his  groups  of  Ameri- 
cans and  Europeans.  To  these  two  great 
pictorial  ideas  Mr.  James  has  given  his  best 
work,  and  in  doing  the  best  he  could  for  art 
has  done  what  was  most  fit  and  timely  for 
207 


LITERARY   STATESMEN 

the  needs  of  some  of  his  countrymen.  Giving 
to  them  their  own  eloquence  and  coherence, 
he  helps  them  see  with  some  comprehension 
the  people  to  whom  they  are  fantastic.  They 
know  whom  he  likes  to  be  with,  but  they 
trust  his  impartiality  none  the  less,  for  they 
feel  that  he  does  not  like  too  strongly  to  be 
with  any  one.  His  artistic  friends,  his  culti- 
vated friends,  he  sees  in  their  limits  too,  al- 
though not  so  clearly  as  he  sees  his  Daisy 
Millers  and  his  Millicent  Hennings.  If  he 
patronizes  Emerson  and  lauds  Mrs.  Hum- 
phry Ward  we  can  forgive  him,  as  we  can  if 
his  essay  on  London  has  more  infatuation 
than  power.  We  forgive  him  because  he  has 
written  "The  Tragic  Muse,"  "The  Princess 
Cassimassima,"  and  "  The  American ;  "  be- 
cause, although  in  his  essays  he  has  told  what 
his  limitations  of  sympathy  are,  he  has  in  his 
novels  spoken  more  impersonally.  Whether 
his  novels  can  live,  whether  the  world  will  take 
him  thinned  and  spread  out  into  so  many 
volumes,  may  well  be  doubted,  for  he  does 
not  justify  himself  page  by  page  and  word  by 
word ;  and  one  seldom  rereads  him.  But  he 
has  been  a  marked  man  of  his  time  and  has 
done  a  good  work  in  it. 
1894. 


208 


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Ade,  George. 

ARTIE  :  A  Story  of  the  Streets  and  of  the 
Town.  With  many  pictures  by  JOHN  T. 
McCurcHEON.  i6mo.  $1.25. 

Ninth  thousand. 

"  Mr.  Ade  shows  all  the  qualities  of  a  successful 
novelist." — Chicago  Tribune. 

"  Artie  is  a  character,  and  George  Ade  has 
limned  him  deftly  as  well  as  amusingly.  Under 
his  rollicking  abandon  and  recklessness  we  are 
made  to  feel  the  real  sense  and  sensitiveness,  and 
the  worldly  wisdom  of  a  youth  whose  only  lan- 
guage is  that  of  a  street-gamin.  As  a  study  of  the 
peculiar  type  chosen,  it  is  both  typical  and  inimi- 
table."— Detroit  Free  Press. 

"It  is  brim  full  of  fun  and  picturesque  slang. 
Nobody  will  be  any  the  worse  for  reading  about 
Artie,  if  he  does  talk  slang.  He's  a  good  fellow 
at  heart,  and  Mamie  Carroll  is  the  '  making  of 
him.'  He  talks  good  sense  and  good  morality,  and 
these  things  have  n't  yet  gone  out  of  style,  even  in 
Chicago." — New  York  Recorder. 


"Well-meaning  admirers  have  compared  Artie 
to  Chimmie  Fadden,  but  Mr.  Townsend's  creation, 
excellent  as  it  is,  cannot  be  said  to  be  entirely  free 
from  exaggeration.  The  hand  of  Chimmie  Fad- 
den's  maker  is  to  be  discerned  at  times.  And  just 
here  Artie  is  particularly  strong — he  is  always 
Artie,  and  Mr.  Ade  is  always  concealed,  and  never 
obtrudes  his  personality."—  Chicago  Post. 

"  George  Ade  is  a  writer,  the  direct  antithesis  of 
Stephen  Crane.  In  'Artie  '  he  has  given  the  world 
a  story  of  the  streets  at  once  wholesome,  free,  and 
stimulating.  The  world  is  filled  with  people  like 
'Artie  '  Blanchard  and  his  '  girl,'  '  Mamie  '  Carroll, 
and  the  story  of  their  lives,  their  hopes,  and 
dreams,  and  loves,  is  immeasurably  more  whole- 
some than  all  the  stories  like  'George's  Mother' 
that  could  be  written  by  an  army  of  the  writers 
who  call  themselves  realists." — Editorial,  Albany 
Evening-  Journal. 

Ade,  George. 

PINK  iMARSH  :  A  Story  of  the  Streets  and 
of  the  Town.  With  forty  full-page  pic- 
tures by  JOHN  T.  McCuTCHEON.  i6mo. 
Uniform  with  Artie.  $1.25. 

Fourth  thousand. 

"There  is,  underlying  these  character  sketches, 
a  refinement  of  feeling  that  wins  and  retains  one's 
admiration." — St.  Louis  Globe- Democrat. 

"Here  is  a  perfect  triumph  of  characterization. 
*  *  *  Pink  must  become  a  household  word." — 
Kansas  City  Star. 

"These  sprightly  sketches  do  for  the  Northern 
town  negro  what  Mr.  Joel  Chandler  Harris's 


<  Uncle  Remus  Papers'  have  done  for  the  South- 
ern old  plantation  slave." — The  Independent. 

"  It  is  some  time  since  we  have  met  with  a  more 
amusing  character  than  is 'Pink  Marsh,'  or  to 
give  him  his  full  title,  William  Pinckney  Marsh, of 
Chicago.  *  *  *  '  Pink' is  not  the  conventional 
'coon 'of  the  comic  paper  and  the  variety  hall, 
but  a  genuine  flesh  and  blood  type,  presented 
with  a  good  deal  of  literary  and  artistic  skill." — 
New  1'ork  Sun. 

"  The  man  who  can  bring  a  new  type  into  the 
literature  of  the  day  is  very  near  a  genius,  if  he 
does  nothing  else.  For  that  reason  Mr.  George 
Ade,  the  chronicler  of  'Artie,'  the  street  boy  of 
Chicago,  did  a  rather  remarkable  thing  when  he 
put  that  young  man  into  a  book.  Now  Mr.  Ade 
has  given  us  a  new  character,  and  to  me  a  much 
more  interesting  one,  because  I  do  not  remember 
having  met  him  face  to  face  in  literature  be- 
fore.— Cincinnati  Commercial  Tribune. 

Benham,  Charles. 

THE  FOURTH  NAPOLEON:    A  Romance. 
I2mo.     $1.50. 

An  accurate  account  of  the  history  of  the  Fourth 
Napoleon,  the  coup  d'etat  which  places  him  on 
the  throne  of  France,  the  war  with  Germany,  and 
his  love  intrigues  as  emperor.  A  vivid  picture  of 
contemporary  politics  in  Paris. 

Bickford,  L.  H. 

(and  Richard  Stillman  Powell.) 
PHYLLIS  IN  BOHEMIA.  With  pictures 
and  decorations  by  ORSON  LOWELL,  and 


a  cover  designed  by  FRANK  HAZENPLUG. 
i6mo.    $1.25. 

Sentimental  comedy  of  the  lightest  kind.  It  is 
the  story  of  Phyllis  leaving  Arcadia  to  find  Bohe- 
mia, and  of  her  adventures  there.  Gentle  satire 
of  the  modern  literary  and  artistic  youth  and  a 
charming  love  story  running  through  all. 


Blossom,  Henry  M.,  Jr. 

CHECKERS:  A  Hard  -  Luck  Story .  By 
the  author  of  "  The  Documents  in  Evi- 
dence." i6mo.  $1.25.  Tenth  thousand. 

"Abounds  in  the  most  racy  and  picturesque 
slang." — Nevj  York  Recorder. 

'"  Checkers' is  an  interesting  and  entertaining 
chap,  a  distinct  type,  with  a  separate  tongue  and  a 
way  of  saying  things  that  is  oddly  humorous." — 
Chicago  Record. 

11  If  I  had  to  ride  from  New  York  to  Chicago  on 
a  slow  train,  I  should  like  a  half  dozen  books  as 
gladsome  as  'Checkers,'  and  I  could  laugh  at  the 
trip." — New  Tork  Commercial  Advertiser. 

"  '  Checkers  '  himself  is  as  distinct  a  creation  as 
Chimmie  Fadden,  and  his  racy  slang  expresses  a 
livelier  wit.  The  racing  part  is  clever  reporting, 
and  as  horsey  and  'up  to  date'  as  any  one  could 
ask.  The  slang  of  the  racecourse  is  caught  with 
skill  and  is  vivid  and  picturesque,  and  students  of 
the  byways  of  language  may  find  some  new  gems 
of  colloquial  speech  to  add  to  their  lexicons." — 
Springfield  Republican. 


Bloundelle-Burton,  John. 

ACROSS  THE  SALT  SEAS  :  A  Romance  of 
the  War  of  Succession.  By  the  author  of 
" In  the  Day  of  Adversity  ,"  "The  Hispan- 
iola  Plate"  "  A  Gentleman  Adventurer" 
etc.  I2mo.  $1.50. 

In  "  The  Hispaniola  Plate"  Mr.  Burton  showed 
his  familiarity  with  the  stories  of  the  buccaneers 
of  the  Spanish  Main.  In  this  new  story  there  is 
still  this  picturesque  element,  although  the  scene 
is  the  battle  of  Vigo  and  the  looting  of  the  Spanish 
galleons.  The  hero  escapes  through  Spain  in  an 
attempt  to  reach  Marlborough  in  Flanders,  and 
has  many  exciting  though  not  improbable  adven- 
tures. Any  one  who  cares  for  good  fighting,  and 
in  whose  ears  the  "sack  of  Maracaibo"  and  the 
"fall  of  Panama"  have  an  alluring  sound,  will 
like  the  book.  There  is  also  an  attractive  love 
*tory  in  a  rather  unusual  form. 

Chap-Book  Essays. 

A  VOLUME  OF  REPRINTS  FROM  THE 
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STODDARD,  EVE  BLANTYRE  SIMPSON, 


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The  authors  of  this  volume  are  all  American 
Besides  the  well-known  names,  there  are  some 
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time.  The  volume  is  bound  in  an  entirely  new 
and  startling  fashion. 

Chatfield-Taylor,  H.  C. 

THE  LAND  OF  THE  CASTANET:  Span- 
ish Sketches^  with  twenty -Jive  full-page 
illustrations.  I2mo.  $1.25. 

"Gives  the  reader  an  insight  into  the  life  of 
Spain  at  the  present  time  which  he  cannot  get 
elsewhere." — Cincinnati  Commercial  Tribune. 

"  Mr.  Chatfield-Taylor's  word-painting  of  special 
events — the  bull-fight  for  instance — is  vivid  and 
well  colored.  He  gets  at  the  national  character 
very  well  indeed,  and  we  feel  that  we  know  our 
Spain  better  by  reason  of  his  handsome  little 
book." — Boston  Traveler. 

"He  writes  pleasantly  and  impartially,  and  very 
fairly  sums  up  the  Spanish  character.  *  *  *  Mr. 
Taylor's  book  is  well  illustrated,  and  is  more  read- 
able than  the  reminiscences  of  the  average  globe- 
trotter."— Nevj  York  Sun. 


Chatfield-Taylor,  H.  C. 

THE  VICE  OF  FOOLS:  A  Novel  of  Society 
Life  in  Washington.  By  the  author  or 
"  The  Land  of  the  Castanet,"  "  Two 
Women  and  a  Fool"  "  An  American 
Peeress"  etc.  With  ten  full  page  pictures 
by  Raymond  M.  Crosby.  l6mo.  $1.50. 

The  great  success  of  Mr.  Chatfield-Taylor's  so- 
ciety novels  gives  assurance  of  a  large  sale  to  this 
new  story.  It  can  hardly  be  denied  that  few  per- 
sons in  this  country  are  better  qualified  to  treat 
the  "  smart  set "  in  various  American  cities,  and 
the  life  in  diplomatic  circles  offers  an  unusually 
picturesque  opportunity. 

D'Annunzio,  Gabriele. 

EPISCOPO  AND  COMPANY.  Translated 
by  Myrta  Leonora  Jones.  i6mo.  $1.25. 

Third  edition. 

Gabriele  d'Annunzio  is  the  best  known  and 
most  gifted  of  modern  Italian  novelists.  His  work 
is  making  a  great  sensation  at  present  in  all  lite- 
rary circles.  The  translation  now  offered  gave 
the  first  opportunity  English-speaking  readers 
had  to  know  him  in  their  own  language. 

De  Fontenoy,  The  Marquise. 

EVE'S  GLOSSARY.  By  the  author  of"£>ueer 
Sprigs  of  Gentility,'1  with  decorations  in 
two  colors  by  FRANK.  HAZENPLUG.  ^to. 
$3.50. 

8 


An  amusing  volume  of  gossip  and  advice  for 
gentlewomen.  It  treats  of  health,  costume,  and 
entertainments;  exemplifies  by  reference  to  noted 
beauties  of  England  and  the  Continent;  and  is 
embellished  with  decorative  borders  of  great 
charm. 


Earle,  Alice  Morse. 

CURIOUS  PUNISHMENTS  OF  BYGONE 
DAYS,  with  twelve  quaint  pictures  and  a 
cover  design  by  FRANK  HAZENPLUG. 
I2mo.  $1.50. 

"In  this  dainty  little  volume  Alice  Morse  Earle 
has  done  a  real  service,  not  only  to  present  read- 
ers, but  to  future  students  of  bygone  customs.  To 
come  upon  all  the  information  that  is  here  put 
into  readable  shape,  one  would  be  obliged  tosearch 
through  many  ancient  and  cumbrous  records." — 
Boston  Transcript. 

"Mrs.  Alice  Morse  Earle  has  made  a  diverting 
and  edifying  book  in  her  '  Curious  Punishments 
of  Bygone  Days,'  which  is  published  in  a  style  of 
quaintness  befitting  the  theme." — New  Tork 
Tribune. 

"This  light  and  entertaining  volume  is  the  most 
recent  of  Mrs.Earle's  popular  antiquarian  sketches, 
and  will  not  fail  to  amuse  and  mildly  instruct 
readers  who  love  to  recall  the  grim  furnishings  and 
habits  of  previous  centuries,  without  too  much 
serious  consideration  of  the  root  from  which  they 
sprang,  the  circumstances  in  which  they  flour- 
ished, or  the  uses  they  served." — The  Independent. 


Embree,  Charles  Fleming. 

FOR  THE  LOVE  OF  TONITA,  AND  OTHER 

TALES  OF  THE  MESAS.  With  a  cover 
designed  by  FERNAND  LUNGREN.  i6mo. 
$1.25. 

Characteristic  and  breezy  stories  of  the  South- 
west, by  a  new  author.  Full  of  romantic  interest 
and  with  an  unusually  humorous  turn.  The  book 
coming  from  a  new  writer,  is  likely  to  be  a  real 
surprise.  The  cover  is  an  entirely  new  experi- 
ment in  bookbinding. 

Fletcher,  Horace. 

HAPPINESS  AS  FOUND  IN  FORETHOUGHT 
MINUS  FEARTHOUGHT,  AND  OTHER 
SUGGESTIONS  IN  MENTICULTURE.  i2mo. 
$1.00. 

The  enormous  popularity  of  Mr.  Fletcher's 
simple  philosophy,  as  shown  in  the  sale  of  his 
first  volume,  "  Menticulture  "  is  a  sufficient  evi- 
dence of  the  prospects  of  the  new  book.  In  it  he 
develops  further  the  ideas  of  menticulture,  and 
urges  with  energy  and  directness  his  plea  for  the 
avoidance  of  worry. 

Fletcher,  Horace. 

MENTICULTURE:  or  the  A-B-C  of  True 
Living.  I2mo.  $I.OO. 

Nineteenth  thousand. 

Transferred  by  tie  author  to  the  present  publishers. 
10 


Gordon,  Julien 

EAT  NOT  THY  HEART:  A  Novel,  By 
the  author  of"  A  Diplomat's  Diary,"  etc. 
l6mo,  $1.25. 

Life  on  Long  Island  at  a  luxurious  country 
place,  is  the  setting  for  this  story,  and  Mrs. 
Cruger's  dialogue  is  as  crisp,  as  witty,  as  satirical 
of  the  foibles  of  fashionable  life  as  ever.  She  has 
tried  a  new  experiment,  however,  in  making  a 
study  of  a  humbler  type,  the  farmer's  wife,  and 
her  ineffectual  jealousy  of  the  rich  city  people. 

Hapgood,  Norman. 

LITERARY  STATESMEN  AND  OTHERS. 
A  book  of  essays  on  men  seen  from  a  distance. 
I2mo.  $1.50. 

Essays  from  one  of  our  younger  writers,  who  is 
already  well  known  as  a  man  of  promise,  and  who 
has  been  given  the  unusual  distinction  of  starting 
his  career  by  unqualified  acceptance  from  the  En- 
glish reviews.  Scholarly,  incisive,  and  thought- 
ful essays  which  will  be  a  valuable  contribution  to 
contemporary  criticism. 


Hichens,  Robert. 

FLAMES:  A  Novel.  By  the  author  of"  A 
Green  Carnation"  "  An  Imaginative 
Man"  "  The  Folly  of  Eustace,"  etc.,  with 
a  cover  design  by  F.  R.  KIMBROUGH. 
I2mo.  $1.50.  Second  edition. 


"The  book  is  sure  to  be  widely  read." — Buffalo 
Commercial. 

*  It  carries  on  the  attention  of  the  reader  from 
the  first  chapter  to  the  last.  Full  of  exciting  in- 
cidents, very  modern,  excessively  up  to  date."— 
London  Daily  Telegraph. 

"In  his  last  book  Mr.  Hichens  has  entirely 
proved  himself.  His  talent  does  not  so  much  lie 
in  the  conventional  novel,  but  more  in  his  strange 
and  fantastic  medium.  '  Flames' suits  him,  has 
him  at  his  best." — Pall  Mall  Gazette. 

"'  Flames,'  "  says  the  London  Chronicle,  in  a  long 
editorial  on  the  story,  "  is  a  cunning  blend  of  the 
romantic  and  the  real,  the  work  of  a  man  who  can 
observe,  who  can  think,  who  can  imagine,  and  who 
can  write." 

"'Flames'  is  a  powerful  story,  not  only  for  the 
novelty  of  its  plot,  but  for  the  skill  with  which  it 
is  worked  out,  the  brilliancy  of  its  descriptions  of 
the  London  streets,  of  the  seamy  side  of  the  city's 
life  which  night  turns  to  the  beholder;  but  the 
descriptions  are  neither  erotic  nor  morbid.  *  *  * 
We  may  repudiate  the  central  idea  of  soul-trans- 
ference, but  the  theory  is  made  the  vehicle  of 
this  striking  tale  in  a  manner  that  is  entirely  sane 
and  wholesome.  It  leaves  no  bad  taste  in  the 
mouth.  *  *  *  'Flames' — it  is  the  author's 
fancy  that  the  soul  is  like  a  little  flame,  and  hence 
the  title — must  be  read  with  care.  There  is  much 
brilliant  epigrammatic  writing  in  it  that  will 
delight  the  literary  palate.  It  is  far  and  away 
ahead  of  anything  that  Mr.  Hichens  has  ever  writ- 
ten before." — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

James,  Henry. 

WHAT  MAISIE  KNEW  :  A  novel.   I2mo. 

$1.50- 

12 


The  publication  of  a  new  novel — one  quite  un- 
like his  previous  work — by  Mr.  Henry  James, 
cannot  fail  to  be  an  event  of  considerable  literary 
importance.  During  its  appearance  in  the  Chap- 
Book,  the  story  has  been  a  delight  to  many  read- 
ers. As  the  first  study  of  child-life  which  Mr. 
James  has  ever  attempted,  it  is  worth  the  attention 
of  all  persons  interested  in  English  and  American 
letters. 

Kinross,  Albert. 

THE  FEARSOME  ISLAND  ;  Being  a  mod- 
ern rendering  of  the  narrative  of  one 
Silas  Fordred,  Master  Mariner  of  Hythe, 
whose  shipwreck  and  subsequent  adventures 
are  herein  set  forth.  Also  an  appendix, 
accounting,  in  a  rational  manner,  for  the 
seeming  marvels  that  Silas  Fordred  en- 
countered during  his  sojourn  on  the  fearsome 
island  of  Don  Diego  Rodriguez.  With  a 
cover  designed  by  FRANK  HAZENPLUG. 
i6mo.  $1.25. 

Le  Gallienne,  Richard. 

PROSE  FANCIES  :  Second  series.  By  the 
author  of "  The  Book-Bills  of  Narcissus" 
"The  ghtest  of  the  Golden  Girl,"  etc. 
With  a  cover  designed  by  FRANK.  HAZEN- 
PLUG. i6mo.  $1.25.  Second  edition. 

"  In  these  days  of  Beardsley  pictures  and  deca- 
dent novels,  it  is  good  to  find  a  book  as  sweet,  as 

'3 


pure,  as    delicate   as    Mr.  Le    Gallienne's." — New 
Orleans  Picayune. 

"'Prose  Fancies'  ought  to  be  in  every  one's 
summer  library,  for  it  is  just  the  kind  of  a  book 
one  loves  to  take  to  some  secluded  spot  to  read 
and  dream  over." — Kansas  City  Times. 

"  There  are  witty  bits  of  sayings  by  the  score, 
and  sometimes  whole  paragraphs  of  nothing  but 
wit.  Somewhere  there  is  a  little  skit  about  'Scot- 
land, the  country  that  takes  its  name  from  the 
whisky  made  there';  and  the  transposed  proverbs, 
like  '  It  is  an  ill  wind  for  the  shorn  lamb,'  and 
'  Many  rise  on  the  stepping-stones  of  their  dead 
relations,'  are  brilliant.  'Most  of  us  would  never 
be  heard  of  were  it  not  for  our  enemies,'  is  a  cap- 
ital epigram." — Chicago  Times-Herald. 

"  Mr.  Le  Gallienneis  first  of  all  a  poet, and  these 
little  essays,  which  savor  somewhat  of  Lamb,  of 
Montaigne,  of  Lang,  and  of  Birrell,  are  larded 
with  verse  of  exquisite  grace.  He  rarely  ventures 
into  the  grotesque,  but  his  fancy  foflows  fair 
paths;  a  certain  quaintness  of  expression  and  the 
idyllic  atmosphere  of  the  book  charm  one  at  the 
beginning  and  carry  one  through  the  nineteen 
'fancies'  that  comprise  the  volume." — Chicago 
Record. 

Magruder,  Julia. 

Miss  AYR  OF  VIRGINIA,  AND  OTHER 
STORIES.  By  the  author  of  "The  Princess 
Sonia,"  "  The  Violet^  etc.  With  a 
cover-design  by  F.  R.  KiMBROUGH.  i6mo. 
$1.25. 

"By  means  of  original  incident  and  keen  por- 
traiture, '  Miss  Ayr  of  Virginia,  and  Other  Stories,' 


is  made  a  decidedly  readable  collection.  In  the 
initial  tale  the  character  of  the  young  Southern 
girl  is  especially  well  drawn;  Miss  Magruder's 
most  artistic  work,  however,  is  found  at  the  end 
of  the  volume,  under  the  title  '  Once  More.'" — The 
Outlook, 

"The  contents  of 'Miss  Ayr  of  Virginia'  are  not 
less  fascinating  than  the  cover.  *  *  *  These 
tales  *  *  *  are  a  delightful  diversion  for  a 
spare  hour.  They  are  dreamy  without  being  can- 
didly realistic,  and  are  absolutely  refreshing  in 
the  simplicity  of  the  author's  style." — Boston 
Herald. 

"Julia  Magruder's  stories  are  so  good  that  one 
feels  like  reading  passages  here  and  there  again 
and  again.  In  the  collection,  '  Miss  Ayr  of  Vir- 
ginia, and  other  stories,'  she  is  at  her  best,  and 
'Miss  Ayr  of  Virginia,'  has  all  the  daintiness,  the 
point  and  pith  and  charm  which  the  author  so 
well  commands.  The  portraiture  of  a  sweet,  un- 
sophisticated, pretty,  smart  Southern  girl  is  be- 
witching."— Minneapolis  Times. 

Malet,  Lucas. 

THE  CARISSIMA  :  A  modern  grotesque. 
By  the  author  of  "  The  Wages  of  Sin," 
etc.  I2mo.  $1.50.  Second  edition. 

*#*This  is  the  first  novel  which  Lucas  Malet 
has  written  since  "The  Wages  of  Sin." 

"The  strongest  piece  of  fiction  written  during 
the  year,  barring  only  the  masters,  Meredith  and 
Thomas  Hardy." — Kansas  City  Star. 

"There  are  "no  dull  pages  in 'The  Carissima,'  no 
perfunctory  people.  Every  character  that  goes  in 
and  out  on  the  mimic  stage  is  fully  rounded,  and 
the  central  one  provokes  curiosity,  like  those  of 

15 


that  Sphinx  among  novelists,  Mr.  Henry  James. 
Lucas  Malet  has  caught  the  very  trick  of  James's 
manner,  and  the  likeness  presses  more  than 
once." — Milwaukee  Sentinel. 

"The  interest  throughout  the  story  is  intense 
and  perfectly  sustained.  The  character-drawing 
is  as  good  as  it  can  be.  The  Carissima,  her  father, 
and  a  journalistic  admirer  are,  in  particular,  abso- 
lute triumphs.  The  book  is  wonderfully  witty, 
and  has  touches  of  genuine  pathos,  more  than  two 
and  more  than  three.  It  is  much  better  than  any- 
thing else  we  have  seen  from  the  same  hand." — 
Pall  Mall  Gazette. 

"Lucas  Malet  has  insight,  strength,  the  gift  of 
satire,  and  a  captivating  brilliance  of  touch;  in 
short,  a  literary  equipment  such  as  not  too  many 
present-day  novelists  are  possessed  of." — London 
Daily  Mail. 

"  We  cannot  think  of  readers  as  skipping  a  line 
or  failing  to  admire  the  workmanship,  or  to  be 
deeply  interested,  both  in  the  characters  and  the 
plot.  '  Carissima' is  likely  to  add  to  the  reputa- 
tion of  the  author  of  'The  Wages  of  Sin.'" — G/as- 
gow  Herald. 

Merrick,  Leonard. 

ONE  MAN'S  VIEW.  By  the  author  of 
"A  Daughter  of  the  Philistines"  etc. 
l6mo.  $I.OO. 

The  story  of  an  ambitious  American  girl  and 
her  attempts  to  get  on  the  English  stage,  her  mar- 
riage and  subsequent  troubles,  and  the  final  hap- 
piness of  every  one.  The  author's  point  of  view 
and  the  story  itself  are  unusual  and  interesting. 

"  Very  well  told."— The  Outlook. 
16 


"Clever  and  original." — Charleston  Ne-ws  and 
Courier. 

"  Eminently  readable." — Netv  Orleans  Times- 
Democrat, 

"  A  highly  emotional,  sensational  story  of  much 
literary  merit." — Chicago  Inter  Ocean. 

"A  novel  over  which  we  could  fancy  ourselves 
sitting  up  till  the  small  hours."  —  London  Daily 
Chronicle. 

"  A  really  remarkable  piece  of  fiction  *  *  * 
a  saving  defense  against  dullness  that  may  come 
in  vacation  times." — Kansas  City  Star. 

Moore,  F.  Frankfort. 

THE     IMPUDENT    COMEDIAN    AND 
OTHERS.     Illustrated.      I2mo.      $1.50. 

"  Several  of  the  stories  have  appeared  in  the 
Chap-Book;  others  are  now  published  for  the  first 
time.  They  all  relate  to  seventeenth  and  eigh- 
teenth century  characters  —  Nell  Gwynn,  Kitty 
Clive,  Oliver  Goldsmith,  Dr.  Johnson,  and  David 
Garrick.  They  are  bright,  witty,  and  dramatic. 

"Capital  short  stories." — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

"  A  thing  of  joy." — Buffalo  Express. 

"The  person  who  has  a  proper  eye  to  the  artis- 
tic in  fiction  will  possess  them  ere  another  day  shall 
dawn." — Scranton  Tribune. 

"Full  of  the  mannerisms  of  the  stage  and  thor- 
oughly Bohemian  in  atmosphere." — Boston  Herald. 

"The  celebrated  actresses  whom  he  takes  for 
his  heroines  sparkle  with  feminine  liveliness  of 
mind." — JVeiv  York  Tribune. 

"  A  collection  of  short  stones  which  has  a  flash 
of  the  picturesqueness,  the  repartee,  the  dazzle  of 

17 


the  age  of  Garrick  and  Goldsmith,  of  Peg  Wof- 
fington  and  Kitty  Clive." — Hartford  Couraiit. 

"The  stories  are  well  conceived  and  amusing, 
bearing  upon  every  page  the  impress  of  an  inti- 
mate study  of  the  fascinating  period  wherein  they 
are  laid."—  The  Dial. 

"Mr.  F.  Frankfort  Moore  had  a  capital  idea 
when  he  undertook  to  throw  into  story  form  some 
of  the  traditional  incidents  of  the  history  of  the 
stage  in  its  earlier  English  days.  Nell  Gwynn, 
Kitty  Clive,  Mrs.  Siddons,  Mrs.  Abington,  and 
others  are  cleverly  depicted,  with  much  of  the 
swagger  and  flavor  of  their  times." — The  Outlook. 

Moore,  F.  Frankfort. 

THE  JESSAMY  BRIDE  :  A  Novel.  By 
the  author  of"  The  Impudent  Comedian.1" 
I2mo.  $1.50. 

A  novel  of  great  interest,  introducing  as  its 
chief  characters  Goldsmith,  Johnson,  Garrick, 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  and  others.  It  is  really  a 
companion  volume  to  "The  Impudent  Comedian." 
The  first  large  English  edition  of  "The  Jessamy 
Bride  "  was  exhausted  before  publication.  The 
great  popularity  of  his  other  books  is  sufficient 
guaranty  of  the  entertainingqualities  of  this  latest 
volume. 

"Admirably  done." — Detroit  Free  Press. 

"It  is  doubtful  if  anything  he  has  written  will 
be  as  well  and  at  widely  appreciated  as  'The 
Jessamy  Bride.'  " — Kansas  City  Times. 

"This  story  seems  to  me  the  strongest  and  sin- 
cerest  bit  of  fiction  I  have  read  since  'Quo 
Vadis.' " — George  Merriam  Hyde  in  The  Book 
Buyer. 

18 


"  A  novel  in  praise  of  the  most  lovable  of  men 
of  letters,  not  even  excepting  Charles  Lamb,  must 
be  welcome,  though  in  it  the  romance  of  Gold- 
smith's life  may  be  made  a  little  too  much  of  for 
strict  truth  *  *  *  Mr.  Moore  has  the  history 
of  the  time  and  of  the  special  circle  at  his  finger- 
ends.  He  has  lived  in  its  atmosphere,  and  his 
transcripts  are  full  of  vivacity.  *  *  *  'The 
Jessamy  Bride  '  is  a  very  good  story,  and  Mr. 
Moore  has  never  written  anything  else  so  chival- 
rous to  man  or  woman." — The  Bookman. 

Morrison,  Arthur. 

A  CHILD  OF  THE  JAGO.  By  the  author 
of  "  Tales  of  Mean  Streets."  I2mo. 
$1.50.  Second  edit  to  n . 

"  The  book  is  a  masterpiece." — Pall  Mall  Gazette. 
"The  unerring  touch  of  a  great  artist." — London 
Daily  Graphic. 

"Told  with  great  vigour  and  powerful  simplic- 
i  ty ." — Athencenm . 

"  Remarkable  power,  and  even  more  remarka- 
ble restraint." — London  Daily  Mail. 

"  A  novel  that  will  rank  alone  as  a  picture  of 
low-class  London  life." — New  Saturday. 

"The  power  and  art  of  the  book  are  beyond 
question." — Hartford  Courant. 

"It  is  one  of  the  most  notable  books  of  the 
year." — Chicago  Daily  Ne-ws. 

"'A  Child  of  the  Jago'will  prove  one  of  the 
immediate  and  great  successes  of  the  season." — 
Boston  Times. 

"The  description  of  the  great  fight  between 
Josh  Perrott  and  Billy  Leary  is  a  masterpiece." 
— PuncA. 

19 


"Never,  certainly,  a  book  with  such  a  scene  on 
which  so  much  artistic  care  has  been  lavished. 
*  *  The  reader  has  no  choice  but  to  be  con- 
vinced."— Review  of  Reviews. 

"  Mr.  ArthurMorrison  has  already  distinguished 
himself  (in  his  Tales  of  Mean  Streets)  as  a  deline- 
ator of  the  lives  of  the  East -end  poor,  but  his 
present  book  takes  a  deeper  hold  on  us." — London 
Times. 

"Is  indeed  indisputably  one  of  the  most  inter- 
esting novels  this  year  has  produced.  *  *  One 
of  those  rare  and  satisfactory  novels  in  which 
almost  every  sentence  has  its  share  in  the  entire 
design." — Saturday  Review. 

"  Since  Daniel  Defoe,  no  such  consummate 
master  of  realistic  fiction  has  arisen  among  us  as 
Mr.  Arthur  Morrison.  Hardly  any  praise  could 
be  too  much  for  the  imaginative  power  and  artis- 
tic perfection  and  beauty  of  this  picture  of  the  de- 
praved and  loathsome  phases  of  human  life. 
There  is  all  of  Defoe's  fidelity  of  realistic  detail, 
suffused  with  the  light  and  warmth  of  a  genius 
higher  and  purer  than  Defoe's." — Scotsman. 

"  It  more  than  fulfills  the  promise  of  '  Tales  of 
Mean  Streets  ' — it  makes  you  confident  that  Mr. 
Morrison  has  yet  better  work  to  do.  The  power 
displayed  is  magnificent,  and  the  episode  of  the 
murder  of  Weech,  '  fence  '  and  '  nark,'  and  of  the 
capture  and  trial  of  his  murderer,  is  one  that 
stamps  itself  upon  the  memory  as  a  thing  done 
once  and  for  all.  Perrott  in  the  dock,  or  as  he 
awaits  the  executioner,  is  a  fit  companion  of  Fagin 
condemned.  The  book  cannot  but  confirm  the 
admirers  of  Mr.  Morrison's  remarkable  talent  in 
the  opinions  they  formed  on  reading  '  Tales  of 
Mean  Streets.'  "—Black  and  White. 

20 


Powell,  Richard  Stillman. 
(See  Bickford,  L.  H.) 

Pritchard,  Martin  J. 

WITHOUT  SIN:    A novel.    i2mo.  $1.50. 

Third  edition. 

*^*The  New  York  Journal  gave  a  half-page 
review  of  the  book  and  proclaimed  it  "  the  most 
startling  novel  jet." 

"Abounds  in  situations  of  thrilling  interest.  A 
unique  and  daring  book." — Revic-w  of  Reviews 
(London). 

"One  is  hardly  likely  to  go  far  wrong  in  pre- 
dicting that  '  Without  Sin'  will  attract  abundant 
notice.  Too  much  can  scarcely  be  said  in  praise 
of  Mr.  Pritchard's  treatment  of  his  subject." — 
Academy. 

"The  very  ingenious  wav  in  which  improbable 
incidents  are  made  to  appear  natural,  the  ingenious 
manner  in  which  the  story  is  sustained  to  the  end, 
the  undoubted  fascination  of  the  writing  and  the 
convincing  charm  of  the  principal  characters,  are 
just  what  make  this  novel  so  deeply  dangerous 
while  so  intensely  interesting."  —  The  World 
(London). 

Pool,  Maria  Louise. 

IN  BUNCOMBE  COUNTY.    i6mo.    $1.25. 

Second  edition. 

"  '  In  Buncombe  County  '  is  bubbling  over  with 
merriment  —  one  could  not  be  blue  with  such  a 
companion  for  an  hour." — Boston  Times. 

21 


"  Maria  Louise  Pool  is  a  joy  forever,  principally 
because  she  so  nobly  disproves  the  lurking  theorv 
that  women  are  born  destitute  of  humor.  Hers  is 
not  acquired;  it  is  the  real  thing.  'In  Buncombe 
County '  is  perfect  with  its  quiet  appreciation  of 
the  humorous  side  of  the  everyday  affairs  of  life." 
— Chicago  Daily  JVetvs. 

"It  is  brimming  over  with  humor,  and  the 
reader  who  can  follow  the  fortunes  of  the  redbird 
alone,  who  nutters  through  the  first  few  chapters, 
and  not  be  moved  to  long  laughter,  must  be  sadly 
insensitive.  But  laugh  as  he  may,  he  will  always 
revert  to  the  graver  vein  which  unobtrusively 
runs  from  the  first  to  the  last  page  in  the  book. 
He  will  lay  down  the  narrative  of  almost  gro- 
tesque adventure  with  a  keen  remembrance  of  its 
tenderness  and  pathos." — Ne-w  Tortt  Tribune. 

Raimond,  C.  E. 

THE  FATAL  GIFT  OF  BEAUTY,  AND 
OTHER  STORIES.  By  the  Author  of 
u  George  Mandeville  s  Husband"  etc. 
i6mo.  $1.25. 

A  book  of  stories  which  will  not  quickly  be  sur- 
passed for  real  humor,  skillful  characterization 
and  splendid  entertainment.  "The  Confessions 
of  a  Cruel  Mistress  "  is  a  masterpiece,  and  the 
"  Portman  Memoirs"  exceptionally  clever. 

Rossetti,  Christina. 

MAUDE  :  Prose  and  Verse.  With  a  pref- 
ace by  William  Michael  Rossetti.  l6mo. 


THE  CHAP-BOOK 

A  Semi-Monthly  Miscellany  and  Review  of  Belles -Lettres.  Price,  10 
cents  a  copy;  $2.00  a  year. 

"The  Chap-Book  is  indispensable.  In  its  new  form,  as  a  literary  re- 
view, it  fills  an  important  place  in  our  magazine  literature." — Rochester 
Post-Express. 

"  The  new  Chap-Book  is  an  imposing  and  inspiriting  production  to  take 
in  the  hands,  and  it  is  opened  with  an  anticipatory  zest  that  is  rewarded 
simply  by  a  reading  of  the  contents." — Providence  Neivs. 

"The  notes  are  vivacious  and  vigorous.  The  literary  quality  is  what 
one  has  a  right  to  expect  from  a  literary  journal,  and  we  heartily  welcome 
the  new  Chap-Book  toour  table." — The  Watchman. 

"  In  its  enlarged  form  the  magazine  has  taken  on  a  somewhat  more 
serious  aspect  than  it  carried  in  its  first  estate,  but  it  has  lost  none  of  its 
crispness  and  interest." — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

"  As  we  glance  through  the  Chap-Book  we  are  newly  charmed  with 
the  excellence  of  its  book  reviews.  Of  course  it  has  other  features  of  interest 
—  notably  the  introductory  "notes"  that  give  in  a  genteel  way  the  freshest 
gossip  of  the  aristocracy  of  letters  —  but  for  our  part  we  turn  at  once  to  the 
book  reviews,  for  we  know  that  there  we  can  be  sure  of  being  at  once  in- 
structed and  entertained.  Whoever  they  are  that  produce  this  copy  —  and 
being  anonymous,  one  has  no  clue  —  they  deserve  rich  recompense  of  cakes 
and  wine,  and,  betimes,  a  lift  in  salary,  for  they  do  know  how  to  review." 
— Scranton  Tribune. 


A  Monthly  Magazine  devoted  to  Houses  and  Homes.  Articles  on  Rugs, 
Furniture,  Pottery,  Silverware,  and  Bookbindings;  Prints,  Engravings,  and 
Etchings;  Interior  and  Exterior  Decoration,  etc.  Abundantly  illustrated. 
It  is  a  magazine  of  general  interest,  and  appreciative  rather  than  technical 
in  character.  10  cents  a  copy;  $1.00  a  year.  Sample  copies  sent  for  five 
two-cent  stamps. 

"  The  House  Beautiful,  for  its  sincerity  of  purpose  and  dignified  ful- 
filment of  its  aim,  so  far,  should  be  highly  commended,  The  third  number 
contains  some  exquisite  illustrations.  *  *  Some  good  reviews  and 
notes  follow  the  articles,  and  a  really  useful  magazine,  in  a  fair  way  to  be- 
come well  established,  is  thus  kept  on  itscourse." — Chicago  Times-Herald. 
"  Throughout,  this  magazine  is  governed  by  good  taste  to  a  degree  which 
is  almost  unique." — Indianapolis  Neivs. 

"  There  is  room  for  a  magazine  like  The  House  Beautiful,  and  the 
third  number  of  that  excellent  monthly  indicates  that  the  void  is  in  a  fair 
way  to  be  filled.  In  addition  to  a  good  assortment  of  articles  on  practical 

?uestions  of  household  art  and  artisanship,  there  is  a  valuable  paper  by  W. 
rving  Way  on  '  Women  and  Bookbinding'." — Chicago  Tribune. 

"  The  House  Beautiful  is  the  title  of  the  new  monthly  which  deals 
principally  with  art  as  applied  to  industry  and  the  household.  *  *  It 
seems  to  be  a  magazine  which  will  have  a  permanent  use  and  interest." — 
Worcester  Spy. 

For  sale  by  all  Booksellers  and  Newsdealers,  or  will  be  sent,  postpaid, 
by  the  publishers,  on  receipt  of  price. 

HERBERT  S.  STONE  &  COMPANY 

Oaxton  Bldg,  Chicago  Constable  Bldg.,  New  York 


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LITERARY  STATESMEN! 

&  OTHERS 
BY  NORMAN  HAPGOOD    I 


